Erik: The Vampire Hunter
by Elektra1
Summary: Erik's past makes him an ideal hunter of unconventional evil, but when he meets a young collegiate dancer named Christine, he is forced to reconsider the darkness that surrounds him and face the truth about his origins. Modern day AU
1. Episode 1: Beginnings

_**Disclaimer: Gaston Leroux owns all the Phantom Of The Opera characters, not me. And the "Hunter's Guild" is a little homage to "Buffy: The Vampire Slayer". Now on to the story! **_

* * *

**Erik: The Vampire Hunter**

**Episode 1: Beginnings **

By: Elektra

Darkness. It was the one thing they both shared. Him… and them. Neither could understand it. Perhaps they were never meant to. How could a mere human kill such a quarry so easily. So efficiently? How could a mere human go unnoticed by them? Their senses were heightened – sight, smell, sound.

So were his.

For reasons he could not fathom, he was just like them – save for the fact he did not eat pretty girls for supper, like the ones before him were about to do.

He stood silently, unemotionally, merely watching. Waiting as he brushed his bangs out of his eyes… glowing yellow eyes that bared a striking resemblance to the creatures he was forever hunting.

He looked at the scene before him again, allowing his long suppressed rage to give him strength. He needed an outlet, after all.

Two males were surveying their prey – a young woman who looked rather frightened to be there. She feared the worst thing that could happen to a woman… but there were things MUCH worse then what she could envision.

He glided out from the shadows silently, placing himself behind the two males, then reached into his black velvet duster and pulled out two lovely pieces of wood he had whittled down into sharp points.

They were gone before they could turn around.

* * *

**Ravelle College**

He watched the Dean of Arts, Antoinette Giry, eagerly as the older woman showed two new students around campus. He recognized the strawberry blond as the Dean's daughter, Meg. The brunette, he had been told, was Christine Daaé. She had been found by the Dean purely by accident when the lady attended her daughter, Meg's, talent show in High School.

Christine was a unique talent - both a dancer and singer, and she was soon offered a scholarship at the prestigious school. From what he understood, she had been living off her meager inheritance with a foster family, working part-time as a waitress, and was currently setting up arrangements in the Ravelle dormitories.

"Now the Arts building closes at nine-pm every night. We have a lot of expensive instruments and equipment so we cannot afford to leave the doors unlocked at all hours," Dean Giry explained to the brunette.

"Tell her the truth, Mama," Meg Giry, who had accompanied the two on this tour, spoke up, "Tell her about the ghost that haunts the building after dark," she winked at Christine, who smiled in return.

His ears perked up. _The ghost_. Yes, that was a good story. He even chuckled at it himself. Surely that was what he was, no? A ghost that haunted a College campus, and followed lovely young girls as they took their tours.

And how lovely this Christine was. Slender, and petite, with bright blue eyes and dark curly hair that contrasted against her fair complexion. Dean Giry had spoken of her in excitement of her discovery – yes, the older lady knew more then she would tell about the ghost - and she had raised his interest, though he was quite sure that was not her intention. Miss Daaé was pretty… but so what? There were a lot of pretty girls studying the arts.

"Megan Giry! Stop making up tall tales!" The older Giry scolded, bringing his attention back to their silly conversation.

"What tall tales?" Meg replied innocently, "Other students claim to hear music in the middle of the night … and sometimes they hear a man singing,"

"Enough, Meg!" Dean Giry snapped.

"It's ok. I like hearing ghost stories," Christine replied with a smile.

"Well, just keep in mind, that's ALL they are!" the Dean replied. She took a deep breath, "Now ladies, I have a meeting to attend. Meg, perhaps you can show your friend the rest of the campus?"

Meg nodded, "Will do, Mama," she said, then took Christine's hand and headed off.

Dean Giry looked around nervously, looking for any signs of his black shadow lurking about, "Just silly stories … that's all. They know nothing," she said to no one in particular, though he knew he was the intended recipient, "Just stories,"

Stories were such fun sometimes though. Perhaps he would have to remind everyone again that there WAS indeed a ghost that haunted Ravelle College.

* * *

**Jane and Finch - Homeless camp**

The others tried to ignore the screams from Jenny and Jason's tent. The little boy was currently cowering outside as he heard his older sister crying and pleading. THEY had kicked him out, and wouldn't let him back in. They had already killed two of his camp friends - he had seen it. And now, he feared they'd do the same to his sibling.

A fellow squatter came up and put an arm around him, allowing the little boy to bury his frightened self in her comforting embrace, "Someone will get them, honey..." she said softly, but Jason wondered if there was any human who could stop creatures like these.

* * *

**Several years earlier**

"_Now that's a good trick," Charles spoke as he held his daughter's hand and glanced at the skeleton faced teenager handcuffed at the police desk, "Perhaps he and his friends were up to some Halloween mischief and were caught," he frowned, "Serves you right!" he scolded the strange boy. He did, however, give the child credit for his frightening face makeup. It looked alarmingly real._

_The little brunette's father had brought her to the police precinct to report his car vandalized - he would not leave his child home alone. _

_The man quickly went to the closest officer and told his tale - not only had the car been spray painted, but it had also been egged, and … well… had other rather unpleasant things thrown at it. Some that smelled quite horrible. _

_What was worse is that his prized violin had been stolen out of the trunk only minutes before he was to head to work – a rather high-end restaurant that liked to boast live music. This, more then anything else, was the biggest problem. He made a living on that violin. And while insurance would cover it, it would take some time to find another that was just right. By then, the restaurant managers would find another violinist to take his place._

_The bright-eyed girl wandered slowly over to the boy as her father busied himself filling out papers, careful to keep a safe enough distance. There was something about him, though that pulled at the little girl's curiousity "Are you ok?" she asked the boy. He slowly looked over to her, their eyes meeting for only a moment before he turned away. _

"_Aren't you scared of me?" the boy asked harshly, "Don't you have something cruel to say? Everyone else does!"_

"_Daddy says your face is a good trick," she replied innocently, "I like tricks! Can you do any others? Like… make yourself look pretty instead of scary?"_

_The boy frowned with his perfect mouth – the only normal thing on his face – "If I could, don't you think I would have DONE it?" he snapped angrily._

_The little girl jumped back, but then bravely took another step towards him again, "How old are you?" she asked hesitantly._

"_Go away," he turned from her, and the little girl was quite sure she had heard a quiet sob. _

"_Are you sad?" she asked. He didn't answer, "When I'M sad, I always talk to my daddy. He's real good at making me feel better. Maybe he can help you too," The boy was unresponsive. She continued studying his odd face, her curiousity growing, "Where are your mommy and daddy?" she said as she put a little hand on his shoulder. _

_The boy shrugged her hand off, "Who the hell knows? Leave me alone!" _

"_Chrissy! Get away from him!" Her father snapped as he quickly came up to his daughter. The curly-haired brunette ran to his side and grasped his hand, "We're done here," he told her, then glanced once more at the handcuffed boy, and headed out._

* * *

**Ravelle College – Ladies Dormitory: Present Day**

Christine let out a shout as she shot up in bed.

"Chrissy?" Came a voice nearby. A lamp quickly flicked on beside Christine to reveal her dorm mate sitting on the bed across from her, looking quite annoyed.

"Meg? I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Christine asked.

"No. I was purposely sitting up staring at you," she responded with light sarcasm, and Christine smiled, "Can't you be a little quieter when having erotic dreams?"

Christine laughed, "TRUST me, I was NOT having an erotic dream! Would have been nice though..."

"What? Dreaming of some hot jock?" Meg joked, "That's _always _nice,"

"I've had my fill of hot jocks, I don't _want_ to dream of one," Christine frowned, "Or do you forget how one of them completely blew me off after six months?" she turned on her back and stared at the ceiling, her voice growing softer, "I'm sorry for waking you, Meg. Let's just go back to sleep," Christine said. Meg nodded, and the two wished each other good night as they lay back down.

* * *

**Ravelle College Campus – 30 minutes later**

Christine's restless walking had led her to the Arts building. She hadn't been able to sleep since that strange childhood memory had come to her and had wanted a breath of fresh air. It was still warm out, and she hadn't bothered to change out of her pajamas. She hadn't been expecting her restless feet to take her this far away from Residence.

Too late now.

She was about to turn around and head back when a sound stopped her in her tracks.

Was someone playing the violin?

_Tell her about the ghost that haunts the building after dark…_

Meg's story came back to her. Christine swallowed hard and mentally scolded herself for believing such childishness as she followed the sound with a new curiousity. She stopped a few feet from the strings room on the first floor and saw the window slightly ajar. She slowly went up to it … and heard the singing.

It was a voice that words couldn't describe. Was it a ghost? An angel? She didn't know. All she knew is that the voice was male, and that she had to close her eyes and savour it.

The voice drew her. Called to her.

She had to answer.

Christine parted her lips, and joined the silky angelic voice with her own soprano. She must have surprised the voice, for it halted before continuing on a moment later.

In the voice, she could hear a swirl of emotions - sadness, loneliness, desperation, tenderness, gentleness... and a darkness that searched for light. She closed her eyes and offered that light in a beautiful golden wave of music, her spirit soaring towards the voice that so enraptured her. Everything seemed to fade save for her and him - two very different sounds blending into one beautiful harmony that very few had ever heard.

The voice stopped singing once his aria was over, and Christine came back to herself, feeling a strange fulfillment the likes of which she had never felt before. She had to see the voice. Had to know his face.

Christine turned to the window and saw a tall man clad in shadows inside the room. She climbed through, staring at him with reverence. "You sound like an angel."

The man lowered his violin and studied her, "Was that _you_ singing with me just now?" he asked, his speaking voice as alluring as his singing voice.

"Yes!" Christine replied excitedly, "Are you a student here. Or a teacher perhaps?" she asked as she walked into the room. She couldn't really tell his age in the darkness.

"Neither…" he answered. He was silent for a moment, then, "Thank you for the song, but you can leave now. I prefer to be alone,"

Christine slowly stepped towards him, still trying to be polite, "I have more right to be here then YOU do, sir," she replied, "If you're neither a student nor teacher, I'd like to know what you're doing in the Arts building,"

He turned to her, "What I do here is no-one's business but my own,"

"_And_ those who hear you in here every night," she insisted, getting a little annoyed at his arrogance, "Should I tell campus security that someone is trespassing on the grounds?"

He studied her a moment, surprised at her gumption, then chuckled softly, "Should they come looking for me, they won't find me. I'm merely a _ghost_, after all," he replied.

Christine eyed him suspiciously, "You seem pretty solid for a ghost,"

"I'm a _special_ ghost," he answered.

"Special, hmmm?" she replied with a frown, "Let's just see HOW special," She slid her fingers along the wall and found the overhead lights, flicking them on quickly.

The so-called ghost spun away from her, his black velvet duster billowing out behind him as he brought a hand up to cover his eyes from the sudden assault of fluorescent lights, "Damnit! Are you trying to BLIND me, girl!"

Christine shrunk back for a moment, unsure what to make of him. The man before her stood tall and lean; disheveled raven hair framing a black leather mask. A mask that only exposed his mouth and chin. His choice of dress was suspicious, to say the least - black from head to toe: trousers that fit like a second skin, boots, fingerless gloves, and a t-shirt.

"Don't you have any _colour _in your wardrobe?" Christine hadn't meant to ask that aloud.

He adjusted to the light and turned to her, taking in her white cotton lounge pants and matching cami, "_You_ are in no position to be giving _me _fashion tips!"

Christine looked down at herself, and suddenly felt very self-conscious in the skimpy sleep fabric, "Um... maybe I _will_ leave you to your darkness," she said, "But if you care to know, my name is Christine. Christine Daaé," she pushed her embarrassment aside and held a hand out.

His strange amber eyes met hers for a moment. With a resigned sigh, he took her hand in his own, "Erik," he replied, giving the girl not so much a handshake, but a small squeeze before he let go, "And I respectfully ask that you tell NO ONE I was here, Miss Daaé…"

"Christine, please. And I respectfully ask that you tell _no one _I was talking to a strange man wearing nothing but my PJs,"

"And bunny slippers," he added, bringing her attention down to her feet.

"Well... damn..." she muttered, now quite sure she was blushing profusely.

"I believe we have a deal, _Christine_," he replied with a gentlemanly bow. The way he said her name was smooth as silk, as if tasting her name on his tongue.

"Thank you... _Erik_," she replied softly.

With a curt nod, Erik turned to the open window, and slipped out of the building with a catlike grace.

"WAIT!" Christine shouted out as she ran up to the window and shoved her head out, "You didn't tell me your LAST name!" There was no answer, though Christine could have sworn she saw his dark shadow climb up a tree… right above three girls who were sneaking about campus - dressed properly, at least - no doubt trying to hunt down their local ghost.

Christine froze as a deep cold laugh echoed throughout the grounds, sending the sneaky girls running back to Residence, squealing in terror.

* * *

**Dean Giry's office - the next morning**

"Your newest protégé is a curious girl, Antoinette," Erik spoke as he sat in the chair before Dean Giry's desk, "She was wandering about campus at 2 am and caught me in the Arts building,"

"I'm sorry, Erik. If I had known she'd go wandering-" Antoinette began.

"No matter," he waved away her concern with a flick of his graceful hand, "She has a lovely voice," he said. "You choose your students well,"

"You heard her?" Giry asked.

Erik nodded, "Would you believe her voice blended almost perfectly with my own? It was the first time anyone had ever _sung _with me, Antoinette. I was amazed! It's as if... we _meshed_ in some strange unexplainable way,"

"Well, I know nothing about your strange duet," Giry replied, "But please don't hold her curiousity against her,"

"Oh, I hold nothing against her," he brushed an invisible speck of dust off his trousers, "Though I must admit, she intrigues me. The girl had the gall to give me a hard time about being there. Quite gutsy, if you ask me."

His voice then grew curious, "But when I looked into her eyes, she seemed _lost _somehow. She approached me as if I were someone to have casual conversation with, even after she had figured out I had no earthly right to be there. It was rather naïve of her to believe that I meant her no harm," he leaned forward, his voice growing low, "Had I been one of THEM, Antoinette, she would not have taken another breath. Not all dark creatures are as civilized as myself,"

"You are _civilized_, Erik?" Giry asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, as civilized as a ghost can be," he offered lightly.

"Then I suggest our resident ghost stay away from Christine Daaé. She is not one of your injured strays," Antoinette warned.

"AH! That reminds me – Isis is expecting kittens. I was wondering if you or your daughter would care for one once they are strong enough,"

"Animals are not allowed in the dorms, Erik," Giry said.

He shrugged gracefully, "I pay little attention to the rules," he was silent for a moment. He knew what he would say next could very well get him into trouble, but Giry should know, regardless, "I told the girl my name,"

She pursed her thin lips in disapproval, "Have you become a fool in your old age, Erik?" she asked.

"Thirty is '_old_' now?" Erik asked with a smile, he then took a deep breath, "But you're right, I should have disappeared when I heard her sing, but she rooted me. I was captivated. I had to join her. I couldn't just ignore it. I wanted... NEEDED... to see to whom that sweet voice belonged," he studied his lap, "I acted like a MAN, Antoinette, and in that sense, I suppose I WAS a fool,"

A pause, then, "And did she react to you as a WOMAN?" Giry asked.

Erik chuckled at that, "I doubt it, but... I did seem to make her blush,"

Giry nodded, "She is only nineteen. A mysterious stranger would, of course, make her blush,"

Erik seemed unconvinced, "If you say so. Now what assignment has the Hunter's Guild presented me with today?" he asked.

Giry unlocked a drawer in her desk, handing him a piece of paper, "Squatters," she said, "Two of them at Jane and Finch,"

"Only two?" he asked, "I'll be back in time for supper,"

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation.

Erik folded the paper and placed it in the right pocket of his duster. He gave Giry a curt bow, then headed to the other side of the room. He climbed atop a chair and slid out the grate in the ceiling, pulling himself up and into the air ducts before sliding the grate back into place.

* * *

**Jane and Finch - that night**

Erik ran onward, jumping over the various cowering forms of those he was trying to protect. He raced after his quarry like a man possessed. From the left inner pocket of his duster, he pulled out a coiled length of rope and whipped it forward, catching the creature before him tight around the neck. With one quick tug, the monster stumbled to the ground, which allowed Erik to impale It with a graceful swing of his arm.

The second one was hiding.

Erik stood still for a moment, listening. Waiting. _Sensing_.

He heard the snap of a twig, and pitched his stake towards the sound. There was barely a shriek before the weapon did its damage.

Erik paused to catch his breath before retrieving his weapon. He was quite aware of eyes on him. The eyes of every single squatter before him. After seeing _what _they had invited into their camp, it was no wonder they now looked upon Erik with fear. There had been two murders the previous night, how were they to know HE would not be the cause of a third?

He looked at the beggars and bag ladies before him. He probably couldn't trust them to keep quiet about what they had seen, but there was nothing to be done about it. In a place like this, everyone saw everything, and no one believed a word of it.

Erik felt a tug on his duster, and looked down to see a boy, no more than eight years old, staring up at him, "They hurt my sister last night. Can you help her?" Erik pocketed his rope and stake, then crouched down to meet the boy at eye level, quite certain that he and his sister were runaways.

He could relate to that.

"May I see your sister?" he asked, hoping against hope that he would not have to do the inevitable. The boy nodded, and lead Erik over to a makeshift tent where a girl lay buried in blankets. "Miss?" he asked, "I need to see you," She sat up and looked at the strange masked man before her, quickly cowering in the corner of the tent and hugging the blankets tight. This girl could be no more than fourteen. "How did they hurt you?" Erik asked as he reached a hand towards her.

She simply shook her head, eyes wide, "Don't touch me!" she begged. Erik let out a sigh. This wasn't going to be easy, and he had neither the time nor patience to sweet talk her into letting him see her wounds. He grabbed the girl so suddenly that she hadn't been able to scream until he had her in his clutches, "NO! Please! NOT AGAIN!" She continued to struggle, cry, plead, "Please stop!"

"CALM YOURSELF!" Erik snapped angrily, his voice loud and forceful enough to silence her.

The girl closed her eyes and lowered her head. Erik roughly grabbed her chin and forced her head up, ignoring the tears spilling down her cheeks and the way her lower lip trembled in fear of him – but he was used to such reactions. He carefully but firmly tilted her head left and right, focusing on her neck and searching for the telltale signs that he may have to come back and dispose of her as well.

Luckily, he saw nothing.

"Please," her voice was a resigned whisper now, "Don't make it hurt this time,"

Erik studied the girl before him. She was still very much a child… but one look in her eyes told him that she had been thoroughly broken.

"Son of a bitch!" Erik hissed, realizing exactly HOW the monsters had hurt her. He immediately let the girl go, "Forgive me!" he gasped. She quickly retreated to her corner once more, hugging herself and shaking, "I did not want _that_. I would _never_-" he stopped, realizing his words were not helping her. He had seen this before. Too many times, in fact. A female used for pleasure by the monsters he had just rid the homeless camp of. It sickened him to the point where he felt physically ill. Even more so had the damage been done by human males.

Erik grabbed his cell phone and looked up his list of numbers. There were several – homeless shelters, children's shelters, women's shelters, with a Guild contact name beside each number. It was a must in this line of work. One never knew whom the monsters would make victims, and such victims would need someone who could understand and help them cope.

He called up the proper number and related the story to Tamara Cohen, a woman he had only met once before. If anyone could tend to these children, she could. He knew nothing about comforting others.

Erik looked at the brother and sister before him as he disconnected his call, "A lady named Tamara will be coming here in an hour to take you and your sister somewhere safe. Somewhere she can get you help,"

"We can't go back home!" the boy cried, eyes fearful, "Mommy will hurt us again! She doesn't like us!"

Erik clenched his jaw. _Mommy_ _will hurt us again_.

Yes… he knew how well _Mommies _could hurt their children.

With a deep breath, Erik sat on the ground, "I'll wait until Tamara gets here," he said, "And I will make sure she doesn't take you back to _Mommy_," he spit the word out as if it were bitter.

The boy sat beside him, staring up at his mask with curiousity, "Why do you wear that?" he asked innocently.

"Apparently I am so good-looking that women faint at the sight of me," Erik replied. It was a convincing enough lie to earn an awed smile from the little boy.

* * *

**Music Room** – **the next day**

Christine stood before the piano as the teacher – Professor Carlotta Gudicelli - played. The Professor was testing every student in the class privately today to see their limits and ranges and where they needed the most work. Christine sang an aria from one of her favourite operas, _Hannibal_. After she was done, Prof. Gudicelli looked at her and smiled, "Wonderful, wonderful… you have quite a range. With more training, you can go far,"

"Thank you, Professor Gudicelli!" Christine smiled in return, and then was dismissed to allow the next student in.

As Christine walked outside the Arts building, her classes done for the day, she spotted a shadow lurking by the music room windows. A shadow no one would have noticed… unless they had seen it before. "Erik!" she shouted out.

The shadow ignored the voice, but he realized who was calling him. None of the students knew his name except, "Christine," he breathed.

Not one who liked to be seen, Erik quickly walked away, silently cursing his curiousity. If only he had not heard her sing. He would never have brought himself out of hiding, never have spied on her vocal class outside in the daylight. _What was I thinking?_

His personal admonishments were interrupted as Christine called out for him once again, desperately racing to catch up. Erik quickened his pace, not wishing to be caught.

"WAIT! Erik… WAIT!" she raced after him. He could have easily outrun her, but something led him to slow his pace, allowing the petite girl to catch up. "Have you been lurking there all day?" Christine asked somewhat breathless as she finally reached him.

"A few hours," he replied quietly, continuing his long strides.

"Did you hear me sing?" her eagerness was apparent in her voice as she jogged to keep up with him.

Erik paused, then answered, "Yes… unfortunately,"

This caused Christine to do a double take, "Unfortunately?" she repeated, then her face fell as she quickly stepped in front of him, walking backwards to keep him in her sights, "Was I that bad? The professor seemed to like it,"

"Well, Madame Carlotta is getting on in years now, and perhaps she does not hear as well as she used to." _Nor sing as well as she used to,_ he added silently, then gently pushed Christine out of the way as he walked past her.

"Hold on a minute!" Christine snapped angrily as she grabbed hold of his sleeve, forcing him to stop and face her, "Are you insulting my voice?"

He stopped walking and turned to her, seeing nothing less than an artist's righteous indignation in her eyes. "Oh… you have perfect pitch and a sweet sound… but that's about it," he replied, then his tone turned darker, "Let _go, _Miss Daaé!"

Christine dropped her hand back to her side, "You know, the _ghost _was nicer!"

Erik suddenly grabbed Christine and dragged her into the shade of the closest tree, pressing her against the trunk, "Did you TELL anyone I was the ghost?"

"No I didn't! And I would appreciate it if you let go of me!" Christine pushed at his chest in an attempt to widen the space between them. She could not help but feel a sudden rush of fear at his behaviour. There was something about him. Something that she knew could be troublesome. Logic told her she would be better off simply walking away and never speaking to him again... but ambition stayed her feet.

He knew music... and she needed that knowledge.

"Don't touch me..." Erik hissed coldly, staring down at her hands. She quicky pulled them back to her sides. If she had been a man who dared lay hands on him, Erik would have dropped her where she stood. But alas, she was only a woman. Half his size at that.

Erik took a deep breath and reigned in his temper, releasing his grip on the girl. "Forgive my paranoia, but there are… _reasons _for it," he indicated the mask he still wore, then continued before Christine could ask about it, "And when I said _unfortunately_, it wasn't to mean that your voice was bad, but I was expecting more from you. Your voice was different the other night outside the Arts building. Spirited. Passionate. But today?" he merely shrugged.

Christine furrowed her brow, "My singing wasn't spirited and passionate?" she asked.

He met her eyes, "You have a beautiful instrument, Miss Daaé… but you don't use its full potential. You did it when you sang with me the other night, so why didn't you do it now?" He asked.

"I don't know… I … didn't even realize it, I guess," Christine thought for a moment, then turned back to him, "I don't suppose you could-" she stopped, thinking over what she would ask him. HOW she would ask it.

He cocked his head to the side, "You don't suppose I could… _what_?"

"Nothing…" she replied, having second thoughts about seeking his help.

"Tell me!" he demanded.

Christine gathered her nerve and spoke, "I was wondering if you could help me. After school maybe? To FEEL what I'm singing, I guess. Or just to give me tips, or something," she looked at him, voice quiet, "I want to sing the way you heard me sing the other night. Maybe it was just a fluke, I don't know. But please, if you can show me how to bring that out again, I'd be very grateful!"

"It's all a matter of calling upon what's inside yourself. It seems you were trying harder to _impress _your teacher than _sing _for her," he began to walk away again, but Christine quickly reached out and grabbed his duster.

Erik glared at her hand, and she immediately let go, "Can you help me do that? Help me _sing_?" she asked hesitantly, knowing it was a little strange expecting a temperamental man she barely knew to tutor her. Desperate times, however, called for desperate measures.

He took a deep breath, and offered a polite bow, "I'm honoured you think so highly of my skills, even if I've never taught a day in my life,"

Christine smiled at that, "You seem like a guy who can do anything he sets his mind to. I'm sure you can teach me!" she said.

He grew dark, serious, "No, _Miss Daaé,_ I'm sure I _can't_," he answered, then headed on his way.

"WHAT! WAIT!" Christine cried out, "I'll PAY you!" but he was long gone.

* * *

**Elsewhere**

Private detective Steven Daniels looked over the daily paper on his desk. It was the usual news – earthquakes, violence… and… something else. Something that caught his attention.

Apparently, there was a small blurb about a vigilante.

A young man had helped a camp of squatters a few nights ago. They had described their masked hero as cat-like, graceful. He appeared out of nowhere, like some avenging angel, riding the camp of two dangerous tenants.

This stirred Daniels' memory of a case he had currently put on hold.

The Detective pressed the intercom on his desk, "Cathy, find me all the files on the Ashton case. Marla Ashton asked me to track down an old classmate of her daughter's,"

"Sir?" his secretary answered, "I thought that was unsolved due to lack of leads,"

The detective smiled, "I may have just found the lead I need!"

**END EPISODE ONE**


	2. Episode 2: Sweet Seduction

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

**Episode 2: Sweet Seduction**

By: Elektra

**Motel 6 – Duncan and Clarke **

She climbed out of the bed and took the wallet from the pocket of her bedmate's trousers, which lay on the floor in a heap.

She looked at the man, a cold smile on her lips as she saw that life no longer filled his body.

Well, the fool _had _come to KILL her. She had shown him, though, hadn't she?

The police, of course, would foolishly blame his death on his obvious night's exertions, as there were no physical signs of what had befallen him. _She_ knew the truth, however.

Mortals wasted so much energy in the midst of physical pleasure; they truly did not realize how useful that energy was.

_She _did. And she absorbed it with great hunger.

The man would never wake again.

Such was the payment for one night with Cassandra.

* * *

**Twenty-three years ago**

_"How dare you!" she shouted as another plate whipped by the 7-year old boy's head, "How could you even ASK that!" _

_"It was only a hug, momma!" the boy cried, "I only wanted a hug!" he covered his head with his arms, but was very sure his mother's beatings would never damage his face more then it already was. _

"_And **I** only wanted a perfect child!" she replied angrily, "But I got YOU instead! Why would I even let you TOUCH me? Why would ANY woman let you touch her?" she sunk down to her knees, "I should have known… I should have known that **bastard** would give me a demon child!" _

"_I'm not a DEMON!" the boy cried out, "I'm HUMAN!" _

_She laughed coldly at that, "You really think you're **Human**?" she threw her hands in the air, "Oh, as if this isn't god's greatest joke! I suppose he's punishing me for not choosing my men more wisely!" _

_She stumbled over to the counter and took another swig from her whiskey bottle. "Little freak," she muttered, "I should have killed you when you were born!" she threw the bottle against the wall, shattering it into several pieces, then stormed out of the apartment to find whatever escape she could from the curse that was her son. _

* * *

**Ravelle College – Abandoned Dormitory: Present day**

Erik shot up in bed and rubbed his eyes, hoping to make the dream… no… the _memory_… disappear.

No such luck.

The ringing of his cell shook him out of his momentary stupor. He checked the caller ID, and answered, "How can I help you, Antoinette?"

"We have a situation," she began.

"I'll be right there," he muttered, and hung up, quickly cleaning and dressing before he headed out.

* * *

**Dean Giry's Office**

Erik looked at the woman before him, disbelieving, "You must be kidding me, Antoinette!" he said.

"This is no joke, Erik!" Giry frowned impatiently, "It is how she feeds!"

"She LOVES a man to death?" he asked, then chuckled a rich deep chuckle, "I suppose there are worse ways to go!"

"ERIK!" Giry scolded, "This is NOT something to take lightly! She can seduce anyone she pleases!"

Erik grew serious, "Really?" he asked, "Then tell me - why did the Guild choose _me _to take care of her?" he asked. She looked away, almost as if ashamed to answer, "Because she will not try to seduce _me_, is that it?"

"I'm sure they just felt you were the most capable of taking care of this," she offered quickly.

He shook his head, "Do not cover for them. It's obvious to both of us their reasons," he studied her for a moment, "I'll hazard a guess and say they gave me special instructions on how to approach her?"

Giry looked up at him, then studied the paper in her hand, "Without your mask," she spoke softly.

"As I thought," he replied, "It's nice to know that my face is good for something." He took a deep breath, "When and where?"

"They lost track of her last night. She was at a Motel 6 on Duncan and Clarke," Giry answered, "Our scouts are searching for her now," she met Erik's amber eyes, "We've already lost one Hunter to her wiles,"

Erik took a deep breath, and nodded, "Fine. I will be available when the scouts find her."

With a polite bow, he left Giry to her thoughts.

* * *

**Ravelle College Campus - Later that night**

Christine backed herself against the nearest wall of the Arts building as she heard Erik inside. His voice was hypnotic. She wondered if he even knew that. She stood beside the open window, eyes closed, just listening.

"What are you doing here?"

Christine gasped and opened her eyes, only to find Erik towering beside her, no doubt having come out the window.

At least she was dressed normally this time.

"Taking a walk," she answered quickly.

"You like eavesdropping?"

"I was… _listening._ "

He was suddenly in front of her, backing the girl against the wall of the building, a hand on either side of her, "If you continue to do this, then I will STOP coming here!"

"Erik… please… just _teach_ me? I said I'd pay!" Christine pleaded. "You've obviously got the talent."

"I don't need your money!" he snorted, then stopped a moment and studied her, a sly smirk on his lips, "Though… perhaps I could use you for something else," Christine paled. Surely he didn't mean- "I need a personal assistant," he said.

She blinked at that, but was relieved at the same time, "Personal assistant?"

He shrugged, "Manservant, messenger, whatever," he said, "I'm not big on going out in public."

Christine eyed him suspiciously, "You want me to run errands for you instead of paying you money?"

"You're a student. I doubt you'd be able to pay me any type of decent fee!" he answered. "If you're willing to be my personal assistant then we could, perhaps, work something out."

Christine nodded, "Deal!"

Erik pushed himself away from her. "Very well. Now let's get this first lesson over with, and you can decide if you've made a mistake." He climbed back through the window and offered a hand to assist her. She accepted it gladly, and he pulled her inside.

* * *

**An hour later**

"You keep forgetting how to breathe!" Erik snapped as Christine's last note faded into oblivion. He suddenly came up behind her and grasped her hands with his own, bringing her hands together just under her sternum, where her diaphragm was.

"Do you feel this?" he asked, inadvertently pressing her back against him. "THIS is where you breathe, not HERE," he slid her hands up her own body, pressing them against her chest. Christine couldn't help but blush. Erik wasn't touching her himself. He didn't dare. But it was enough to make her feel uncomfortable, "Do you understand?" he asked, "This is all very elementary! Did you never have a proper teacher?"

Christine swallowed nervously, "My father taught me," she said, "He was a musician too, but he passed away three years ago. It's been so long... I guess I forgot."

Erik was silent a moment, then spoke. "And what of your mother? Did she not bother to find someone to continue your education?"

Christine closed her eyes, voice quiet, "She died when I was three. Car accident."

She heard Erik exhale, "I'm sorry for your losses." His voice then grew cold, "Our lesson is over for tonight. You may come back tomorrow if you like. I'll be here regardless." He moved away and silently disappeared through the window.

* * *

**Motel 6 – Richmond and John**

"You're so very handsome, you know," a female voice spoke. Guild Scout Michael Garland turned to see the most beautiful female he had ever laid eyes upon. Mocha skin, honey-brown eyes, long luxurious dark hair, and a graceful curvaceous figure covered by scraps of material that passed for clothing. Cassandra offered him a sweet smile, "Were you looking for someone?" she asked as she shimmied up to him, her arms sliding about his neck.

Michael suddenly couldn't speak, unable to tear his eyes away.

"You seem to be so very interested in me," she continued, the hypnotizing smile never leaving her luscious lips, "May I ask why?"

He licked his lips, "They… want you…" his resolve slowly began to fade. "_I_ want you," he whispered huskily.

"So many men do," she replied, quite aware of the effect she was having on him. It was a wonderful power to have. "Who are _they_?" she asked innocently, though she knew exactly who was looking for her.

"Hunter… Hunter's Guild…" Michael replied breathlessly.

She pouted, "Awww, they want little ol' me? But I'm no threat to them,"

"You… you kill…" he answered.

Cassandra pressed her curves against his lanky body, "I'm all alone tonight," she reached up and stroked his hair, "Care to keep me company?"

"You'll… feed off me," Michael continued airily, but he really didn't seem to care now. "You're alone?" he asked softly.

She smiled, "All alone,"

He nodded as if in a trance, and blindly followed her into the hotel room.

* * *

**Ravelle College: Two days later**

Christine gasped as she stepped into her dorm room to see an unexpected guest lounging on her bed, reading the book she usually kept on her nightstand, "What are you doing here? And how did you know where my room was?"

Erik propped himself up on an elbow and looked up at her through his mask, purposely ignoring her questions. "Your taste in books leaves a lot to be desired," he indicated the romance novel in his hands.

"Did you sneak into my dorm room just to make fun of what I read?" Christine asked with a frown.

He glanced at the front cover – the typical bodice ripper design. "Are you waiting for some handsome hero to sweep you off your feet, Miss Daaé?" he asked quietly, a hint of melancholy in his tone.

Christine sat down beside Erik and saw he had not bothered to take his boots off. She pushed his feet off the bed, not wanting mud on her blanket. "I thought I HAD found my handsome hero," she muttered, "It only took him six months to get bored of me." She shrugged. "I mean, we were both young so he probably wasn't ready for anything serious. I don't hold it against him." She stopped, aware she was rambling. "Okay, maybe just a little bit."

Erik studied her, then glanced away."It find it difficult to understand how any man could get bored of an affectionate woman."

Christine met his eyes, then turned away with a shy blush, "Tell _him _that."

Erik placed the book back on her nightstand, and spoke coolly, "I'm here about your payment. It's due."

He stood up and stretched out his long frame. He had taken off his duster, which was sprawled messily on her floor. Without it, she could make out how lean his form was. Lean but solid. And pale. _Unaturally _pale, from what little she could see beneath the mask.

"I have a rather picky client," he began, unaware of her curious glances, "He wants a personal delivery, rather than FedEx. He thinks rather highly of himself," Erik scowled. "The man lives in town, so it shouldn't be much trouble for you to get to him. _I _do not like going out in the daylight."

Christine was quite sure the reason for his aversion to light lay beneath his mask. She was growing increasingly curious as to what he was hiding, but wouldn't dare ask.

"What kind of client? And what kind of delivery?" she asked warily.

"Nothing illegal, I assure you. However, a ghost does not put food on his table by lurking around the Arts building." He lifted his duster and pulled out a plastic tube. "Here are the blueprints my client commissioned for his new summer home. He's paying me a significant amount of money, so you understand how much trust I'm putting into you for this,"

Christine blinked in surprise, "Blueprints?" she asked. He nodded. "You're an _architect_ as well as a musician?"

"Among other things," he answered darkly, then handed her a piece of paper. "This is the address. It must be there by this evening,"

Christine studied the address, and froze, "Um… I think… I think you have to make this delivery yourself," she said.

He turned to her, a hint of anger in his voice, "I guarantee he will appreciate seeing YOUR face more then MINE! Do not refuse my payment request or I will cut your lessons off!"

Christine shook her head, "I can't. Not there. Anywhere but there!" she looked up at him, eyes pleading, "Please!"

"Why does the address upset you?" he asked, curious now.

Christine turned away, "He's my ex's brother."

"The one who grew bored of you," he recalled her earlier words. "Perhaps it's time to put that behind you. How long ago was it?"

She shrugged, "I was a High School Junior, he was a High School Senior. I'd had a crush on him since my freshman year," she explained.

"A three year crush?" Erik scoffed, "He must have been quite the pretty boy."

"He was gorgoeus," she replied softly, "but there was more to it then that. I really cared about him. I was so happy when he finally asked me out."

"Oh, how very _delightful _for you," Erik muttered.

"Don't belittle me!" she snapped angrily, "He _dumped _me! Do you have ANY idea what that does to a girl's self-esteem?" She quickly looked away, having said far more then she had intended.

She was startled when he leaned down and met her eyes, a frown on his pale lips. "Then he obviously wasn't worthy of your affections to begin with. Get over it!"

He indicated the address in her hand, "He may not even be there. If he is, show him a brave face. Tell him you found yourself a wonderful passionate lover who treats you like a Queen, if you must." His eyes then bored into hers once again, "You will NOT deny me payment!"

"Christine?" a voice spoke quietly from the doorway. Both Christine and Erik looked up to see Meg standing there, mouth open, eyes wide as she looked at Erik, "Who are YOU and what payment are you demanding from Chrissy?" she shouted angrily.

"_Chrissy_?" Erik repeated the nickname with amusement, then stood up to face Meg, towering over the petite dancing student, who took a startled step back, "I'm not demanding anything she doesn't _owe _me," he said.

Meg looked at Christine, then back at Erik, hands on her hips and protection for her friend in her voice, "And what do you think she OWES you?"

Christine then realized what Meg was thinking, and quickly jumped up, "Erik is the vocal tutor I told you about, Meg," she said quickly, ignoring his scathing glare. No doubt he had wanted to keep that a secret. "He just wants me to do some errands for him in place of payment."

"HIM?" She indicated the masked man, "HE'S the one who's been teaching you?" She studied him suspiciously.

"Listen," Christine stepped between the two, "Meg, don't worry. He's not doing anything wrong," she looked at Erik, "I'll make your delivery, okay? Just go before anyone else sees you."

Erik's eyes shifted between Christine and her friend. He then turned to Christine's bed and stepped onto it, opening the air duct above as he pulled himself up and in, shutting it behind him.

Christine and Meg exchanged glances for a moment, before Meg finally spoke, "He couldn't just use the door?"

* * *

**An hour later**

Christine took a deep breath as she stood before the DeChagny estate. She rang the doorbell, and one of the maids immediately opened the door.

Christine offered a small smile, "Hey," she started. "Um, I'm here to see Mr. Philip DeChagny," she quickly held up the tube, "I was asked to deliver something to him for a friend,"

"Ahh, are those the blueprints he's been waiting for?" the maid asked, and Christine nodded. The maid indicated the young girl follow her in, "He has told me about this mysterious new designer. _Erik._ No last name. He's become rather popular among Philip's friends." She glanced at Christine as she led her through the large estate. "Have you met him, or does he conduct business with you as he does with Philip? Over the phone?"

"Oh I've met him. He's… um… " She thought a moment. "Really _old,_" she lied.

"Old?" The maid asked, "Funny, I've answered the phone when he's been on the other line. He didn't sound old to me. Had quite a sexy voice, in fact," she winked.

"Yes, he doesn't sound his age," Christine answered. Lying was just becoming easier and easier, "He has a good pair of hands, but he has terrible rheumatism in his knees, so he can't get around much."

"Well it's good of you to run errands for him then," the woman smiled, then knocked on the door they had just come to, "Mr. DeChagny? Someone is here with Erik's blueprints."

She heard heavy-footed walking from the other side of the room. When the door flew opened, a handsome golden-haired male with piercing blue eyes stood before her – her high school sweetheart, "My brother TOLD him not to deliver it by messenger!" He then stopped when he saw who the delivery person _was_, "Christine?"

Christine could say nothing for a moment, surprised that he even remembered her, "Raoul… um… hi…"

"Wow!" he seemed almost taken aback, "How long has it been? Over a year now?"

"I think so, yes," Christine replied.

Raoul offered a charming smile, "My brother told me to expect this delivery, but I had no idea the delivery person would be so lovely," he studied her intently. "Do you work for _Erik_?"

"Yes," she said quietly, then regretted it. She DIDN'T work for Erik. She was in his debt, not in his employ, but it seemed any other intelligent answers left her the moment she had come face to face with the boy she had never forgotten.

Raoul indicated Christine come into the room, which she now saw was an office/study. "Thank you, Rosa," he said to the maid. Rosa smiled, heading on her way. He indicated a chair for Christine. She placed the tube upon his desk as she took the seat. He sat across from her, steepling his chin as he studied her, not overly concerned about the parcel.

"Tell me about yourself," he started. "What have you been up to lately?"

"I go to Ravelle College. I'm majoring in Performing Arts," she replied, amazed that he was even interested.

Raoul nodded, "Yeah, I remember you were always in our High School plays and talent shows," he grew quiet, "It's too bad I graduated a year before you. I wish we had kept in touch."

"Really?" Christine gasped. Raoul simply nodded, and she offered him a sweet smile, "Well what have YOU been up to?"

He shrugged, "Running the family business when my brother isn't around," he offered a small smile, "And when I'm not busy at University."

"Sounds stressful," she replied.

"It is. Stressful and boring, actually," he answered, then grew serious. "Chrissy, can I call you sometime?"

Christine suddenly grew nervous. She stood quickly, remembering this was the same man who had broken her heart once already, "I have to go, Raoul."

He hastily came around the desk, "Wait! I know I wasn't fair to you in High School, and I'm sorry. I really am. I was a jerk, and I apologize for that. I DID like you Christine. I liked you very much."

Christine headed to the door of the study, "I can't do this, Raoul."

"Listen," he began, gently grasping her arm to stop her, "I'm not asking you to get back together with me. But can we at least be friends? I enjoyed being with you. I'm being honest here."

Christine met his eyes and saw the truth in them. She was hesitant for a moment, but eventually relented, "I'll give you my cell number, and then we'll see."

Raoul nodded, "That's all I can ask," he handed Christine a paper and pen and she jotted the number down. "Thanks, Chrissy," he took her hand and planted a gentlemanly kiss atop it, "And thank your boss for the plans. I'll give them to Philip when he gets home, and he'll get in touch with him later."

"I'll let Erik know," Christine offered, then headed out of the house, quite aware she was blushing like a schoolgirl.

* * *

**Thursday night**

"You seem a little distracted tonight," Erik spoke as he peaked up at the brunette from his place at the piano. Her singing had started improving since the two had begun their lessons, even surpassing the first night he met her, but tonight, her voice was lacking. He needed to know why.

"Ms. Daaé?" Erik began again, his rich voice as soothing as he could make it, "What is it?"

Christine glanced at him, then quickly turned away from his intense gaze. Finally, she answered with a resigned shrug, "Raoul called me last night," she explained. "I didn't even know what to say to him," her voice trailed off as she stared at the floor tiles.

"How did he get your number?"

"I gave it to him when I delivered the blueprints. Philip hadn't been home. We talked for a few minutes."

"I see…" Erik replied, keeping his voice steady. Why did he feel a strange twinge at her words?

"He wanted to go out for coffee sometime," she said.

"And did you say yes?"

"OH!" The brunette jumped when she heard Erik's voice behind her. She spun around to see he had left his place at the piano to stand mere inches from her, "Jeez, Erik! You startled me!" she gasped as she put a hand to her pounding chest.

She hadn't even heard him move. But then again, Erik always seemed more like a shadow than a flesh and blood man.

"I seem to have that effect on people," he answered.

Christine's eyes strayed to his face … and the oppressive leather that covered whatever secret he was hiding.

Quite aware she was staring, Christine's eyes fell instead to the lower half of his face – his mouth. _Such a lovely, perfect mouth. W__hat could you possibly be hiding?_

Christine finally had to step away from him, lest her curiousity raise his ire.

She wandered off to the side, keeping a polite distance, and focused her gaze out the window again. But she could still see him in her peripheral vision, watching her. He was difficult to ignore.

Christine glanced at him nervously, his strange golden eyes focused intently on her. "You're hovering."

Erik's attention did not stray from the dark-haired woman, "I asked a question. I would like an answer."

Before Christine could respond to the dangerous chill in his voice, a strawberry blond head stuck through the window. "Chrissy," Meg called out, holding a cell phone in her hand. "You left this in our room and Raoul's on the line for you."

Erik closed his eyes, teeth gritted in annoyance. He took a breath to calm himself, and let it out slowly, only then realizing he had clenched his left hand into a rather tight fist. He slowly relaxed the hand.

"You could have told him she was BUSY, Little Giry!" Erik scolded as he turned to glare at the girl handing Christine her cell phone.

Meg looked over at Erik, startled by his tone. "He said it was important!" she sputtered.

Erik seethed under his mask. This man - a man whom he had never met - was infuriating, "Oh _well_… heaven forbid we keep the pretty rich boy waiting!" Erik knew he had no right to behave this way, but there it was. Almost like an instinct.

Christine offered him an apologetic 'sorry', and slipped out the window to take her call, effectively ending the lesson for the night.

* * *

**Ravelle College Campus**

Jeanie Stevan giggled as she pulled her intoxicated date closer, sharing a drunken affection. Jake gently pushed Jeanie against the wall of the arts building, the two kissing, touching, and enjoying each other in many ways.

A hand suddenly grasped the back of the boy's neck, pinching a nerve as he was yanked away, rendering the boy unconscious at Jeanie's feet. It had happened so fast…

She looked up at the tall man who had suddenly appeared before her – a living, breathing shadow, "I'm in no mood to watch drunks procreate behind MY building!" he hissed, then glanced at the girl, now kneeling with concern beside her man, "Tell everyone that _ghosts_ don't like being disturbed," the dark man cursed colourfully as he headed on his way.

* * *

**Dean Giry's Office – the next night**

"They found her," Giry began as Erik stood before her. "She took out one of our scouts before they finally tracked her down,"

"A hunter, AND a scout. She must be a very talented woman," Erik muttered, "Or they must have been very weak-minded fools to fall prey to a pretty face."

Giry studied him, "They aren't the only ones, it seems,"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Antoinette," he replied when he saw her staring pointedly at him.

"Your new student," she answered. "Professor Gudicelli was mentioning to me how a certain Miss Daaé's voice was advancing at an unexpected rate,"

"Well, _I'm _certainly no teacher,"

"Erik…" she began, but he silenced her with a cold glare.

"Tell me where my quarry is. I would like to be home before midnight!"

Giry let out an exasperated sigh, knowing the conversation was over. Erik didn't want to talk, and no words from her would change that. She simply pursed her lips and handed him the scouting report.

* * *

**Motel 6 – Steeles and Don Mills (later that night)**

Cassandra watched the masked one from the poolside patio as he tried to sneak about the outside of the building unseen. He was lithe and graceful, a black velvet duster billowing out behind him, form-fitting trousers that would catch the eye of any hot-blooded female, and a dangerous darkness that drew her.

He was a Hunter.

She guessed he was well over 6 feet. It was difficult to tell exactly how much from the way he was slinking through the shadows.

She took in his face – his mouth and chin were visible, but the rest of his visage remained covered by a black leather mask framed by his silky ebony hair.

If Cassandra could charm him, she had no doubt she would receive quite the pay off.

As if he knew she had been there all along, the masked man gracefully turned towards her. He offered a polite bow, a smirk upon his pale lips… then he walked out of Cassandra's line of sight, blending into the shadows so well that even her enhanced eyes could not see him.

Cassandra grew nervous, her eyes darting around to find a glimpse of him. But she saw nothing.

Where had the male disappeared too?

She soon received the answer when a strong forearm clamped over her throat and pulled her back against a firm chest. "Let's just cut to the chase," an angry voice hissed in her ear, "I am here to kill you. There will be no time for pleasantries."

Cassandra craned her neck to look up at the same male she had been studying moments before, preparing to use her powers of persuasion - but she could only freeze at the sight that greeted her.

The Hunter no longer wore his mask, his hideous features fully exposed. Cassandra's eyes went wide. Was this... _thing_... even human? He SMELLED human… but… how could any human be born with such a face?

"It seems I've startled you," he replied, "I can't imagine why!" His voice was bitter. Cold. "Is something wrong?" he taunted, "Aren't you going to try and seduce me like you did the others?" If it were any other man, she could have easily worked her charms, but the revealed sight of him had left her dumbstruck. "No? A shame. I'm sure you could have enjoyed me…"

She didn't even see him pull out the stake.

* * *

**Ravelle College – Erik's room (later) **

With a weary sigh, Erik entered his dorm room - a room long thought abandoned - and tossed his duster aside. No one had seen him enter the building, but that was to be expected. He was quite adept at keeping to the shadows.

Erik knelt down before the music box on his night table. He wound the key and watched as the little Persian monkey brought his cymbals together, a sad song playing as its head bobbed slowly. How old was he when he had made this? 13 or 14 perhaps? He had… _borrowed_… the necessary materials from a few nearby stores, and had snuck into his school in the dead of night, immediately going to the woodworking and metal room.

The teacher had been impressed with the gifted boy's work, and had asked if he could meet his mother, wanting to congratulate her for raising such a brilliant child.

Erik had to decline the man's request, for he had not seen his mother since he was ten years old and his various foster parents didn't seem to want him around for very long – especially after a certain incident when he was fifteen, which had sent him running away from social workers and foster homes forever.

Erik threw off his mask and went up to the covered mirror on the other side of the room. He lifted the dust cloth and stared at himself.

Even in the moonlight coming through his window, he could make out light traces of blue-black veins beneath his smooth alabaster skin.

His nose was almost non-existent. The bridge was thin, his nasal cavity more like a black hole than anything else. His protruding cheekbones and brow made his golden eyes appear almost sunken in – eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness with the slightest touch of moonlight.

If there was such a thing as a living corpse, he was it. Not even a demonic seductress could stand the sight.

Erik tugged the dust-cloth back down over the glass, and lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Of all the monsters he had hunted and killed, there would always be one he could never get rid of – the one that haunted him every time he looked in the mirror.

* * *

**Elsewhere**

Detective Daniels went through folder after folder of research notes. Years had been spent on this case. The goal had been simple – Marla Ashton wanted him to find an old classmate of her daughter's. He had even been given the subject's full name – Erik Garner. Such a simple assignment, he had thought.

But he was wrong.

From what Daniels found out, the boy had been born with a severe birth defect. It had been bad enough to cause the father to disappear and the young mother to suffer postpartum depression to the point where she would physically abuse the child, as the social services reports had said.

And what of the child himself? The boy forced to wear this defect on the most visible part of his body?

After he was taken away from his mother at age ten, he had gotten lost in the system, hopping from foster home to foster home until he ran away at age fifteen.

He would now be a man of thirty, and Daniels was quite sure he was still around. There was no other explanation for what had been reported in the newspapers lately – reports of an avenging angel who had made it his business to save others from … well, no one knew exactly WHAT it was that had attacked them. Animals, some said. Monsters, others said.

Either way, a mysterious masked man would be sighted, and then just as quickly would be gone.

A shadow that disappeared like a ghost in the night.

**END EPISODE TWO**


	3. Episode 3: Shadows of the Past

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter**

**Episode 3: Shadows of the Past**

By: Elektra

**15 Years ago**

_Her name was Laura. **Lovely Laura**, he had called her. _

_She had told him she liked his voice, liked HIM, and wanted to see his face. _

_He refused. _

"_Why?" Laura demanded, "What are you hiding, Erik?" Oh, she was angry, but he knew what her reaction would be. For a moment, though… for a moment, he was hoping to be wrong. "SHOW ME!" she insisted. _

_Before he could stop her, she reached out and ripped the mask from his face. _

_Her reaction was exactly what he had expected. _

_Laura started to back away from him, looking as if she had just seen Death himself. He tried to take her hand, to tell her not to run. He wouldn't hurt her. But she wouldn't listen. _

_He got angry. _

"_If you want to see my face so much, then why don't you look!" Erik shouted as he grasped her tiny shoulders and pulled the blonde girl against him, "LOOK at me, Laura! Satisfy your curiousity!" _

_With a cry, she broke free and ran. He chased after her, begging forgiveness for scaring her. Trying to get her to understand. If she liked him before, why could she not like him NOW? He was still the same boy! _

_But she ran on, ignoring his words… _

_Her fear of his face was so strong that she did not see the busy street. Did not see the cars rushing at her._

_He would never forget the screech of tires, the terrified scream, the loud thud of metal hitting flesh._

_When he finally came upon the scene, Laura lay in the middle of the street surrounded by twisted steel, the air saturated with the smell of the girl's blood._

* * *

**Dean Giry's office – Present day**

Antoinette Giry was very agitated as she clenched the phone in her hand, "What do you mean someone's been looking for him? WHO, Ella?"

"A private investigator was seen asking questions at the Squatter's camp a few days ago," the Hunter's Guild head of Security answered, "Erik stayed there longer then was necessary. All Hunters know once the job is done, they are to leave just as quickly as they came. But no… he remained behind to soothe a little boy whose sister had been attacked. He was still there when Tamara showed up to take them! The investigator tracked down the little boy and his sister and asked questions,"

"So you're saying it is Erik's fault for trying to calm a frightened child?"

"He cannot afford to show such weakness!" Ella replied.

"Compassion is a WEAKNESS?" Giry was astounded. "Erik _rarely _shows it, and when he does, you _blame_ him for it?"

"Well, now it has caused problems… so yes. He should have left, as he had been trained to!"

"And YOU should protect your Hunters from outside threats, as YOU'VE been trained to!" Giry replied, and slammed the phone down, rather disgusted with how cold the Guild could be when it came to Erik. Sometimes she wondered if they even remembered he was _human_.

* * *

**Ashton Estate**

The lovely young girl smiled as an older woman brushed her long golden hair, "Mother," she began, "Has Daniels been able to find him yet?"

"Daniels had a lead on that, yes," her mother replied nervously, "But, dear… are you sure you want to confront him?"

"I've waited long enough, Mother!" the girl replied, a coldness creeping into her voice. "What did Daniels find?" Her mother handed her a folder, and the girl flipped through it, a frown on her full lips, "Who's this girl?" she pointed out a picture of a petite brunette, "And what's her connection with him? Surely not a girlfriend!"

"Daniels wasn't sure, dear. There was an article in the paper… about a masked man who helped some people a few weeks ago. Daniels kept hearing more and more stories about his appearances, then tracked him down and took these pictures. He hasn't been able to find out any more."

"I have to see him again!" she demanded like a spoiled child, then her voice grew sweet, "You promised, momma. You promised I would see him again…"

"Patience, honey. You'll get to see him very soon."

Laura offered a small smile, "Maybe I'll do my own investigating…"

* * *

**15 years ago**

_"You are seriously one messed up kid," an officer came up to the holding cell Erik had been placed in after he had been officially booked - mug shot, fingerprinted, and all, "Mommy take some nasty drugs when she was pregnant with you?" _

"_Can I have my mask back? You have your photos already!" Erik spoke, annoyance clear in his voice. He didn't like being stared at. Exposed. Taunted. _

_He felt less than human._

_Perhaps he WAS less than human, although that little girl – the one who had come in earlier with her father – had treated him like her new best friend._

_Children were so naïve._

"_They said you chased a girl into traffic," the officer spoke as he continued to study the fifteen-year old boy before him, "That true?" _

_Erik was quiet for a moment, "It was an accident," he replied softly._

"_An accident? A girl is in a coma, and you say it was an accident?" the officer accused._

"_I tried to stop her…" Erik offered weakly. He felt such guilt at having her innocent blood on his hands, "She was too scared to listen!"_

"_Did your face drive her mad?" the officer asked._

"_Enough Samuels!" A voice spoke suddenly. The Lieutenant, if Erik remembered correctly._

_Officer Samuels turned to face the man who had just arrived, "Sorry, sir. But… look at him! How can he plead innocence?" _

_"Innocent until proven guilty. And all this boy is guilty of is unintentionally frightening a foolish girl who was too curious for her own good," The Lt. replied, then opened up the holding cell to release the boy inside, "Your social worker is waiting for you. I think she has a new set of foster parents to introduce you to," he handed the boy his mask._

_Erik frowned, anger creeping into his voice as he slid the leather over his face, "The others don't want me anymore," he replied matter-of-factly. Really though, he wasn't surprised._

_Who would ever want something like him?_

* * *

**Ravelle College – Erik's room: Present day**

Erik jumped up in bed, the shilling of his cell phone far more successful then his alarm clock, which he had put into snooze mode twenty minutes earlier. He quickly grabbed the cell and answered with the impatience of a man who had just woken from a restless slumber, "WHAT?"

"Good morning!" came a cheery female voice on the other line. Erik thought a moment. What female had his cell number? He had given it to Antoinette, but this surely wasn't her.

"Christine?" he realized. Yes, he had given the number to her as well, should she need to ask him a question while on one of his errands.

"Who else?" she asked, "Did you hear back from Philip?"

"Philip? Oh, your pretty boy's brother," he realized, "Yes. He was quite happy with the blueprints,"

"And... is there anything my employer needs me to do today?" she asked hopefully.

"_Your employer_?" Erik asked

"Yes," Christine replied, "_My employer _– the ever popular _Erik_ with no surname- a bitter old man with really bad rheumatism,"

Erik threw his head back and laughed, "Is that what you told Raoul?"

"No… his maid, Rosa…"

His laughter calmed somewhat. Goodness, he hadn't laughed like that for…. actually, he had NEVER laughed like that, "That explains the tube of Arthritic cream in my post office box. She's always so fond of me when I call, trying to keep me on the line for as long as possible before handing me over to Philip."

"Well, she thinks you have a sexy voice," Christine replied. If it was possible, he could hear the blush in her tone, "Anyway, I'm working tonight so I might be late for our lesson,"

For the first time in years, Erik found himself smiling, "I'll be waiting…"

* * *

**Later that night**

Christine said goodbye to her fellow employees as she headed out of O'Grady's Pub, her current place of work. She checked her watch and saw the time, realizing she was leaving a lot later then she wanted to. It couldn't be helped, though. The pub had been showing a wrestling pay-per-view, and it had brought in quite a crowd – no one had wanted to pay thirty-dollars to watch the card at home.

As much as she enjoyed the abundance of tips, though, Christine had felt uneasy the entire night. She felt as if someone had been watching her. But the only thing she saw when she looked around were a bunch of loud, intoxicated wrestling fans who were more interested in the action on TV than her.

She felt so edgy, in fact, that she had even called Raoul, asking if he would accompany her back to Ravelle, but he had been busy with matters at home – apparently, his brother was entertaining some highly important clients, and Raoul's presence was required. Christine realized she could have asked Erik as well, but it was too late now.

When Christine climbed off the bus and headed towards Ravelle, the distressing feeling still remained. With a deep breath, she bolted across campus and headed to the place she felt safest – more for the fact she knew who would be there waiting for her.

Christine sat on the cold hard ground beneath the music room's open window when she finally reached the Arts building, trying to catch her breath from the sprint. She quickly glanced around, wondering if someone had followed her, but neither heard nor saw anything. "Just my over-active imagination..." she muttered to herself.

Then she heard the familiar music.

Christine smiled and closed her eyes as she listened to the violin accompanying Erik's haunting voice, allowing the harmony to soothe her. He always seemed to be able to do that, whether he knew it or not.

After a few minutes, the music stopped. She opened her eyes to see Erik make himself comfortable on the ground beside her, "I get the impression work didn't go well?"

Christine leaned back against the wall, "We were busy. _Really _busy," she then offered a small smile, "I was hoping Raoul would show up and accompany me back to campus,"

"Did you now?" he asked.

She took a deep breath, a small pout on her lips, "He couldn't make it. Other obligations," she then grew wistful, "He makes me feel like I'm back in High School again. I remember the first time he asked me out. I was so surprised the popular boy wanted ME!" she looked up at the man beside her, eyes bright, "It's so nice to be _wanted_, Erik!"

"I wouldn't know," he muttered.

Christine chuckled, "I'm sure there were girls who wanted you back in High School," she said, "And maybe if you stopped playing ghost and took off the silly mask, there would be girls you want you NOW too,"

"The mask is NEVER coming off again!" he hissed, and Christine gasped at the flash of anger in his eyes. She had certainly hit a nerve.

Christine studied him, "What is it you're hiding?" she asked, "A scar? It can't be _that_ bad."

He laughed. Cold, cruel. Harsh. It sent a shiver down her spine, "No, Christine… certainly not a _scar_! THAT would have been preferable!"

Christine's voice was quiet when she spoke, wondering if she would feel his wrath at her bold question, "Can I see?"

"I asked him something like that once," another voice answered, "And have regretted it ever since," Erik and Christine immediately jumped to their feet, turning to see a golden-haired girl walking – no – _gliding_ towards them. Erik's eyes went wide, his head shaking back and forth in disbelief, "Don't let his voice seduce you, little one," she said, "There's a demon hidden behind that mask,"

Christine shuddered, the uneasy feeling returning upon seeing this girl, "Were YOU the one following me?" she asked as she felt herself drift closer to Erik.

"I wanted to know what pretty young thing Erik plans on destroying next," the girl replied with a shrug.

"This is impossible!" Erik gasped, unable to take his eyes from the new arrival.

She tilted her head and offered Erik a cold smirk. "No more impossible then a ghost haunting an Arts College," she replied, then sighed, "Tsk tsk, Erik. You're supposed to be a genius. Couldn't you have been more original? Stories like that make the rounds, you know. If someone knew you, they'd be able to find you quite easily,"

"Erik?" Christine grasped his sleeve, "Who is she? What is this all about?" she asked.

"Christine," Erik didn't take his eyes from the intruder, "Go back to your dorm," it was an order.

"But… she was _following_ me!" Christine insisted.

"GO, Christine. NOW!" he practically shouted.

"Fine," she answered reluctantly, and slowly headed off.

"She's so _cute_, Erik. And so _trusting_ of you. How did you manage that?" Laura asked.

"How did you manage _this_, Laura?" Erik began suspiciously. He studied the girl before him, and could _sense _that she wasn't the same as she used to be.

"You killed me. Remember?"

"I didn't _kill _you! Last I heard, you were in a coma,"

"I was! For _years_! I never woke up," she shrugged, "At least, not until after I _died_," she let out a wistful sigh.

"Two years ago, the doctors told Momma there was no hope, but Momma just couldn't be without me, you see," she then feigned sympathy, "Oh, but poor unhappy Erik doesn't know the love of a mother, does he?"

"Momma found a way to bring her precious daughter back to her. At a price, of course. Father's life for mine, but I was worth it, wasn't I?" her smile was cold. Laura walked towards him, "You've changed, you know," she said, "I can see it in your eyes. You've taken several lives since we last saw each other…"

"They were like YOU!" He hissed, "Hardly _life_, as you call it,"

"I disagree. We're very much _alive_. Just not in the literal sense," she stood only inches from him, "I see now," she realized, "You've become a _Hunter_," Laura spread her arms wide, "Why don't you finish what you started then?"

"I never meant to hurt you!" Erik insisted, "You RAN! I tried to STOP you!"

"You didn't try hard _enough_!" she spat bitterly as she reached up to rip the mask from his face, "You're more a monster then _I_ am! How can you even look at yourself in the mirror without feeling ill?" she threw the mask aside.

A yelp of alarm echoed through the darkness.

"Christine?" Erik turned to see a petite form come out from behind the Arts building, unable to take her eyes from him as she shakily bent down to pick up his discarded mask.

Laura suddenly smiled, "Oh dear! It seems your friend didn't listen to you when you told her to leave,"

The look on Christine's face froze him in his tracks. The way her delicate little hand slid up to her mouth, the way her eyes grew wide upon seeing his exposed visage for the first time, the way her breath quickened and her body trembled as she clutched his mask.

His cold golden eyes met her warm blue ones, but he could not tell how long they stared at each other. He was dangerously calm, almost numb to what had just happened.

She started to back away, and he slowly stepped towards her, a hand reaching out, "Please…" he began, "Don't be scared—" His plea fell on deaf ears.

With a choked cry, Christine spun around and raced across campus, as far away from him as possible, "Christine!" he cried out, but Erik only sunk to his knees, too emotionally drained to chase after her.

With a satisfied laugh, _Lovely Laura _disappeared into the darkness.

**END EPISODE THREE**


	4. Episode 4: Angel of Music

**Erik: The Vampire Hunter**  
**  
Episode 4: Angel of Music**

By: Elektra

**Ravelle College Campus – Outside the arts building**

Erik ignored the wetness of damp grass through the knees of his jeans. All he could do was stare at where Christine had been, hoping against hope that she would turn around and come back. She had seen his face. Worse yet, she had taken his mask! There was nothing he could do to cover himself now.

At the moment, he didn't even care.

"Geez, man," a voice said a few feet away, "The Halloween Masquerade isn't for another two weeks! What's with the face paint?"

Erik jumped to his feet to see a group of male student staring at him, guzzling on various forms of alcohol. With their uneven steps and glassy eyes, he could tell they were very much intoxicated, no doubt coming from the weekend frat parties that were in abundance on campus. "Hey, you come looking like that to the party, you'll win a prize! Guaranteed!" another student in the group said.

Erik swore as he spun around and disappeared into the darkness, "Man, talk about rude!" the first boy shouted after him, but the group were far too tipsy to care about much more then what party they'd crash next.

* * *

**Christine's dorm room – later**

Returning to the dorm room after spending a late night with her boyfriend, Meg came upon a sobbing Christine and quickly went to her best friends' side.

"Chrissy?"

Christine's head was buried in her arms as she clutched a strange black object desperately in her hand.

"Chrissy," Meg repeated, concern clear in her voice. "What happened? What…" she stopped and tugged the black scrap of leather from Christine's fingers, "This isn't… it's not…" her eyes went wide, "PLEASE tell me this isn't what I think it is!"

Christine raised her tear-stained face, "She did it. She took it off. And I _saw_," she closed her eyes, "God, Meg… I SAW!"

"_His face_?" Meg gasped. Christine nodded, "Who took the mask off?"

Christine shook her head, "I don't know... she... she said something about _killing _her, but... that makes no sense!" she took the mask back and held it to her chest, head bowed, "What kind of life has he had, Meg? Looking like that?"

"Is it bad?" Meg asked, and Christine simply nodded. She knew Meg wanted details, but Christine wasn't ready to give them.

Erik's face had been pale, just as she had suspected, but she had no idea HOW pale. Light traces of blue-black veins lay beneath his smooth white skin. His nose was non-existent, more like a black hole than anything else. And his cheekbones and brow protruded so profusely that his golden eyes appeared sunken in.

And yet through it all, his pale mouth and chin remained normal! How cruel had fate been to give him such opposing features?

Christine stared down at the mask in her hands, and her eyes went wide, "I know him!" she gasped suddenly.

"What?" Meg asked, not quite sure what Christine was referring too.

The brunette looked up at her, "I've seen his face before! Oh god!" she closed her eyes as her childhood memory came back. The boy in the handcuffs had looked so sad and lonely.

"_That's a good trick!"  
_  
She remembered her father's words, but understood now what she did not understand then – Erik's face had been no trick. It had been real! So very real.

"I should have given this back!" she said suddenly as her eyes fell on the mask once again, "He… he's walking around now… without it! How stupid am I?" she quickly got to her feet.

Meg grabbed her friend's arm, "Chrissy, NO! It's one in the morning! You shouldn't be walking around alone this late!"

"But I have to give this back to him!" she protested.

"Then call him. You have his cell number. Tell him to meet you in front of Residence! Do you know how many drunken frat boys are running around?" she shook her head, "RJ was polite enough to accompany me back here, but that didn't stop them from making cat calls and rude comments. The last thing you need is to be harassed right now!"

Christine nodded, then blindly reached for her purse and pulled out her cell phone, immediately finding Erik's number. She held her breath as the phone rang once… twice…

"What if he doesn't have it with him?" Christine asked meekly, but before she could say anything else, she heard a quiet husky 'hello' after the third ring. His voice seemed strained. Tired. Spent.

Christine froze. She wasn't sure what she was going to say to him. _I'm sorry I didn't listen when you told me to leave. Want your mask back? _Her hand shook. She was talking to him… HIM… and she couldn't get his face - that corpse's face - out of her head.

There was silence on the other line, then a hesitant, "Christine?"

She licked her lips, swallowed nervously, then spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, "I… still have it. I… can give it back… if you meet me outside…"

More silence from him, then finally a cold answer, "Twenty minutes," followed by the static of a cell phone being turned off.

Christine broke down into sobs once again.

_I acted like a scared little girl, and he hates me for it..._

* * *

**Twenty minutes later**

Christine stood staring at the wall before her, trying to think of the right words. What could she tell him? There was no excuse for the way she had behaved, for the way she had trembled at Erik's appearance as if he were suddenly some frightening monster.

"Christine?"

She jumped at the silky voice behind her. She was about to face him when his strong hand clamped down hard on her shoulder, holding her in place. "You don't have to look," he said. "Just hand it to me."

Christine nodded slowly, then passed the mask blindly behind her. She felt the brush of gloved fingers as he took it from her, his hand sliding off her shoulder. Christine took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding of her heart. She had to confront him now. Talk to him. "Erik? That girl… who was she?" she began softly.

No answer.

She furrowed her brow, "Erik?" she repeated, then turned around.

He was gone.

* * *

**Christine's Dormitory**

"Did you see Erik?" Meg asked as Christine came back into the dorm room.

"_See?_ No... not see. He wouldn't let me look at him," Christine went to sit down on her bed, grabbing her cell phone, "I need to call Raoul,"

"This late? Why?" Meg asked.

"I just want to be with him,"

Meg took a deep breath, her voice soft, "Chrissy, what's going on here? Are you so shallow that you need to throw yourself at some hot guy to erase the memory of Erik's face?"

Christine looked away, "NO! It's not THAT … it's just…" she hugged herself, "I was reminded of a conversation I had with my father… a long time ago... and… it _scared_ me, Meg. It's like my father _knew_."

"Knew WHAT?" Meg asked.

"Knew that I'd meet him. Meet Erik. It's like… like he kept true to his word… just like he promised me that night…"

* * *

**Three and a half years ago**

"_Are you going to get better?" a 16-year- old Christine asked as she sat by her father's hospital bed, "What did the doctors say?" She had lost track of how long he had been here. Weeks? Months now? Time passed without notice lately._

"_I'm sorry, Chrissy, but…" he turned away, "They don't think it looks very good," He turned back to see her eyes wet with unshed tears. "Don't cry, honey. The doctors have done all they could, but there's only so much longer my body can hold out," his voice was weak and raspy, growing steadily softer as the night grew on._

_Christine shook her head, "How long?" she asked. _

"_At the rate the cancer is growing, they can't tell," he took a deep breath, and coughed violently. When he finally composed himself, he spoke again. "Damn… all those years working in restaurants, all the cigarette smoke… it hasn't done me any favours."_

"_Am I going to be all alone now?" she whispered._

"_No, Chrissy, no you won't. I… I'll send you an angel. Someone to watch over you," he offered a weak smile._

_Christine shook her head, "No such things as angels, dad," she replied through her tears._

"_Really now?" he asked. "Funny," he rasped, "Because I always thought one of them guided me to your mother, and then sent me **you**." _

_Christine laughed softly, then grew serious. "I love you, dad. God, how... how am I going to go on without you?" the tears then began to flow freely again. _

_Charles Daaé reached out and took her hand, but his grip was weak, his strength diminishing by the minute, "Shh, honey. You have to be strong," he said. "If it helps, I'll send you a **special **angel,"_

_Christine looked back at him, "Special?" _

"_Very special! An angel of music, since you love performing so much. And this angel will be there for you. Always."_

_Christine smiled a little, "Will he be beautiful?" _

"_HE?" Charles repeated, then smiled weakly. "Ahh, you want a beautiful MALE angel. Typical teenage girl." _

_Christine let out a small laugh at that, and her father continued, "Yes, HE will be beautiful!" Charles answered "And he'll protect you, and bring you music that will make you happy when you're sad, and make you safe when you're scared," his voice grew serious. "I love you, Chrissy. And HE'LL love you too, I promise. You just need to find him."_

"_I love you, daddy," Christine replied. "And I'll love HIM as well," she smiled lightly, "Even if he doesn't look as beautiful as you promised," _

"_I wasn't talking about his **looks**, Chrissy. An angel's real beauty is inside," her father winked, "Otherwise, they'd blind us every time we set our eyes on them. Why, I'd venture to guess that the uglier he is on the outside, the better chance of him being an angel,"_

_Christine laughed at that, then slid onto the hospital bed beside her father. "I think I'll stay here tonight. You can tell me more stories. About angels or whatever." _

_Her father put an arm around her, his voice soft when he spoke next, "Well, I have a pretty good one that isn't about an angel. It's about a girl named Little Lotte…" _

* * *

**Christine's Dormitory - Present Day **

"I remember that night perfectly, Meg. I remember listening to daddy's voice as he told his story, until the both of us fell asleep." She took a shaky breath, "When morning came, I was the only one who woke up." Christine closed her eyes, allowing tears to slide down her cheeks, "He died in his sleep,"

Without another word, Meg put her arms around Christine, comforting her best friend.

"Do you think he knew?" Christine asked. "My God, Meg! He mentioned the music, he mentioned the… the _looks_… and… I guess seeing Erik's face just brought that all back to me." She glanced up at her friend, "I told Erik he sounded like an angel when I first met him,"

"Honey, you know your dad was just telling a story to make you feel better," Meg spoke softly.

"I know," Christine replied quietly, "There are no such things as angels..."

* * *

**Christine's dormitory – air ducts**

Erik looked down through the grate at the scene before him, a crying Christine being comforted by her friend, Meg.

The two girls neither saw him, nor heard him. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the metal of the ventilation tunnel, guilt filling him. He hadn't heard the entire conversation, but understood that he had upset Christine to such an extent that it had brought back memories of her father's death. He was angry at himself for causing the poor girl such pain.

Erik wished there was something he could do. Anything.

But perhaps there was, after all. One thing. The ONLY thing he could do to ease her suffering. To make sure that she cried no more tears because of him.

He would stay away from her.

* * *

**Arts Building - Two weeks later**

Christine looked into the music room, hoping for just a peak of a moving shadow. But she saw nothing. The window was closed. Locked. He had not come. Again. Why did she bother even waiting for him? He was avoiding her, she was quite sure of that.

_I shouldn't have run, _she thought. _I shouldn't have… _she closed her eyes, wondering if Erik would ever forgive her reaction. She was shocked. Surprised. Alarmed. It was only instinct to run.

_You thought he was ugly. Horrible. Frightening, _a voice mocked her. She shook her head, willing the voice to go away.

_He's my friend! I'm not going to hate him because he isn't handsome!_ She told the voice, but it paid no heed.

_If looks don't matter, why are you dating Raoul when you were so angry at him after your high school break up? It's because he's the best-looking man you've ever seen, _the voice answered coldly.

Christine hugged herself as she made her way back to Residence, her eyes filling with guilty tears.

A piece of paper blew towards her. The wind had been growing stronger lately. The temperature colder. She quickly grabbed the paper and saw the advertisement:

**What: Ravelle's 15th Annual Halloween Masquerade**

**When: October 31st**

**Where: Ravelle Auditorium **

**Prizes to be awarded for best costume!**

That was in three days from now. Perhaps it would help take her mind off everything that had been happening lately.

Christine took out her cell phone and called Raoul. When she mentioned the party, he seemed enthusiastic. Had said he wanted to do something for Halloween but didn't know what. The two decided they would meet at her dorm, then head out and enjoy the night.

* * *

**Dean Giry's Office**

"I want you to attend the Halloween Masquerade," Dean Giry spoke as Erik sat in front of her desk.

Erik blinked at that, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," she replied. "I want you there. Wear whatever costume you like, but keep an eye out. We found a girl on campus two weeks ago, drained. Another was found last week, and another still a few days ago. We have a feeling someone is using the campus as a feeding ground,"

Erik frowned, "Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

"We weren't sure. And… you seemed _distracted_," Giry replied. "We brought in one of the other Hunters to investigate, but she could find no leads."

"I would have gladly welcomed the chance to Hunt down a quarry, Antoinette," He said.

"Well now is your chance," she answered, then her voice grew quiet. "Meg told me Christine will be at the party,"

"Oh, how nice for Miss Daaé ," Erik answered snidely, "No doubt she will be in attendance with her handsome lover!" his words were bitter and cold.

Giry took a deep breath, "I only mention it because I don't want anymore _distractions_, Erik. Your top priority is our intruder,"

"I'll get rid of It, Antoinette. I can guarantee you that!"

* * *

**Ravelle Auditorium – Halloween Masquerade**

Erik stood in the shadows, eyes darting around the auditorium, fittingly decorated with demons, witches, vampires. _If they only knew…_ he thought bitterly. Such creatures looked nothing like these cartoons. No. They looked like humans, which was far more frightening.

He noticed he was getting odd glances from everyone who walked by, though he supposed that was to be expected when one showed up dressed in blood-red Victorian velvet – a high-collar buttoned coat with tails, fitted trousers, knee-high black boots, black leather gloves, finished off with a long flowing cape that hung over one shoulder. He was hiding in plain sight.

As for his mask, well… Halloween was the only night he _didn't_ have to wear his mask. No one was the wiser for it. He'd even been complemented on his wonderful make-up job several times. It looked so realistic, after all…

Tonight, Erik referred to himself as _Red Death._

He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to face a female with large green eyes and blond hair. She was dressed as a courtesan. The girl smiled at him, "That's an amazing costume! Especially the make-up!" she smirked flirtatiously. Erik forced himself not to laugh. "Care for a dance?"

"I'm busy," he replied.

She pouted, "You're just _lurking_," she said, then smiled again, "I'm a good dancer," she winked.

He would have offered a cruel response had something not caught his eye and seized his breath.

Entering the auditorium stood a vision of beauty - Christine had arrived. She was dressed as _Cinderella _in a shimmering white and silver strapless ball gown, complete with glass (or rather, clear plastic, in this case) shoes, and a little silver tiara on her head. On her arm stood her Prince Charming – a handsome blonde man dressed in white and gold with a long golden cape flowing out behind him.

How long had it been since Erik had spoken with her? Sung with her? It had been only two weeks, but felt like ages.

He had been avoiding her calls (glad for his caller ID), erasing her voice mails. He had seen her venture out to the Arts building every night, and had waited until she left before he would dare sneak inside.

He was regretting it more and more each day. But it had to be this way. His face had sent her running, and his coldness would keep her away. Perhaps he should be grateful it had happened sooner rather then later... when it could have hurt far worse.

Erik turned to see the _courtesan_ who had been pestering him move on to another male. It was for the better, anyway. He was here on business. And he easily found it.

Off to the side stood his quarry – a pale young man dressed as, what else? A vampire. Not just any vampire, but one that looked like he had just stepped out of an Anne Rice novel. The kind that girls thought were oh-so-sexy, although what was so attractive about a creature that could rip open a human throat without remorse was beyond him.

Erik watched as Its eyes darted around the room, no doubt searching for Its next victim.

Throughout the night, Erik saw It go from dance partner to dance partner. It seemed to be acting the perfect gentleman, not trying to lure any of them away. Erik furrowed his brow. His quarry was being careful. Why? He received his answer when It looked up at him, and smiled.

It knew It was being watched. But how? How did It even know of Erik's purpose? Erik quickly pulled out his cell phone and made a quick call to Giry, informing her that the vampire was aware of his presence. Neither could figure out how or why.

When Erik disconnected, he noticed his quarry had found yet another dance partner. And Erik was certainly not happy to see that it was Cinderella herself.

* * *

**Halloween Masquerade**

Raoul had been schmoozing – something he was quite good at –and had made some acquaintances with a few students who traveled in the same upper-class social circles he and his brother did. They had eagerly invited him to the student lounge to play pool, and he had gone with them, asking Christine if she'd like to join. Christine preferred to stay with Meg and her boyfriend, RJ, instead.

That was, until the handsome vampire asked her to dance. Meg and RJ urged her to accept, as they wanted to enjoy a dance or two themselves. Christine gladly did. And here she stood, now, face to face with a man she didn't even know. She felt a little uncomfortable, but didn't want to return to being a wallflower. She would have to tell Raoul exactly what she thought of him leaving her stranded.

"I'm cutting in!" a silky voice demanded behind Christine. Two strong hands grasped her shoulders and tugged her away from her current dance partner, who looked rather perturbed at the interruption, but simply walked away with a shrug, "Where is your lover?" Erik asked as he pulled Christine into a shadowed part of the auditorium, making sure to keep her back to him.

"He's not my _lover_, and… he was invited to play pool in the student lounge,"

"Hardly polite of him to leave you here all alone, where any strange man can grab you," he hissed coldly.

"Strange like _you_?" she asked with a bit of anger.

Christine attempted to turn around and face him, but Erik immediately slid an arm across her collarbone and pulled her back against him, preventing her movement, "_Exactly_ like me," he replied dangerously.

Christine frowned, "Let me go so I can yell at you face to face for avoiding me!" she tried to move again, but to no avail.

"I think not. You're the only one who knows _this_…" he slid his hand down her bare arm and entwined her fingers with his, bringing her palm flat against his face, "… is real. And I'll not force you to look upon it again."

Christine closed her eyes, her fingers feeling the smooth skin stretched taut over his protruding cheekbones and brow, the image of his horrid face appearing in her mind once again.

She shivered ever so slightly as she felt his warm breath against her bare shoulder, "As I thought," he let her hand drop. "Even now, it makes you ill, Miss Daaé."

"Why so formal, Mr.-" she stopped, "_Whatever-the-hell-your-last-name-is_!" She could have sworn she heard Erik chuckle at that, and it only made her angrier.

"You really should go find your your _boyfriend_ and stop dancing with men you don't know," he answered, then she felt his body go stiff, a curse escaping his lips. He quickly pushed her away, and she turned to see his eyes darting desperately around the auditorium.

Christine could now make out his face under the lights of the party. She couldn't help but stifle a cry and turn away. Luckily, Erik didn't seem to notice. His eyes had, instead, fallen on her earlier dance partner, who was now leading _Snow White_ out of the auditorium. Before Christine could ask him why they had caught his attention, Erik sprinted after them.

Christine's insatiable curiousity enticed her to follow.

* * *

**Outside Ravelle Auditorium**

He raced after his quarry as fast as he could, silently cursing himself for letting Christine distract him. Erik could sense It nearby, and quickly reached behind his back, pulling a stake out from under his belt. He was close, he knew that much.

Erik turned a corner to see the creature pinning _Snow White _against the wall, fangs bared, mouth descending as she desperately cried and struggled for freedom. He quickly grabbed her attacker, throwing It as far away from her as possible, "RUN!" Erik ordered, and she did not hesitate to do so.

A deep growl rumbled from his prey's throat when he saw what had interrupted It. It quickly advanced on the Hunter, immediately sending a fist at Erik's head, which he instinctively blocked. Erik then aimed his boot at his quarry's stomach. It jumped back, barely avoiding the blow. The two dropped into a half-crouch and began circling each other cautiously, Erik holding his stake ready.

"Erik!" a familiar female voice called out, distracting Erik long enough for his quarry to send an uppercut flying toward his jaw.

The punch landed, sending the taller man's head back. Erik quickly regained his balance and shot his foot out, hooking the creature behind Its leg and sending It crashing to the ground.

"Get OUT of here, Christine!" Erik hissed.

His quarry took the moment to jump to It's feet and send the Hunter staggering back with a hard kick to his chest. It pressed Its advantage, trying to jam Its elbow into Erik's face, but he dodged it expertly. Erik's eyes narrowed as he grew angrier. That girl had to go away, and she had to go away _now_! She was becoming detrimental to his job.

"She said you'd be distracted by the girl!" the Creature replied with a laugh.

Erik quickly came at his quarry, tackling it to the ground and rolling it over to push It's face into the dirt, "WHO said?" he demanded, pressing his knee into It's back, "TELL ME!"

"SHE did!" the creature hissed, "After giving me one hell of a night!" It laughed again, "Oh, such a wild girl, that Laura was. Told me I had been reborn when we were done, and that I was in her debt. She then asked me to keep an eye on you and report back to her." The quarry smiled, "Oh, she thanks me quite well when I make my reports!"

"Laura?" Erik gasped, and this new distraction allowed the creature to reach back and connect It's elbow with Erik's temple, sending the taller man rolling off him.

The creature caught Erik off balance with a sweeping roundhouse. It attempted to land another kick, but Erik stumbled to his feet and caught the creature's ankle in his hand. He twisted the ankle, smirking coldly as he heard a sickening crack, then threw his screaming quarry away from him.

His quarry landed hard on the ground. It tried to stand up using It's good leg, but Erik grabbed the leg and sent It crashing down again. He then pressed a knee to his quarry's throat and swung the stake into It's torso with deadly efficiency, leaving nothing but a pile of dust in his quarry's place. Erik remained in place, catching his breath as a satisfying smile played on his lips. Destroying his quarry always left him with a wonderful adrenaline rush.

"What… _was _that!" Christine gasped as she looked down at Erik and his new pile of dust. She shook her head, "That's impossible! There's no such thing!" she insisted.

Erik's momentary euphoria quickly dispersed, "You have a bad habit of ignoring me when I tell you to LEAVE!" he snapped angrily as he jumped to his feet, "Damn you and your insatiable curiousity, Christine!"

"Chrissy?" a female voice called out. Meg, Christine realized.

"Christine! Where are you?" That was Raoul. Christine turned around to see Meg, Raoul, and RJ running towards her. "What are you doing out here all alone?" he asked.

"I… I was talking to-" she turned around only to find Erik gone, the dust pile the only sign he had been there. Christine closed her eyes and shook her head, "I… I want to go back to the dorm. I'm feeling really exhausted suddenly," she muttered.

"Are you ok?" Meg asked with concern. Christine looked at her, the unspoken name in her eyes - Meg had a good idea she knew whom Christine had been talking too out here. "I'll take her back," she offered.

The two girls then headed off into the darkness, leaving the two men feeling they had missed something important.

**END EPISODE FOUR** _  
_


	5. Episode 5: Fascination

**Erik: The Vampire Hunter**

**Episode 5:** **Fascination**

By: Elektra

**Erik's Room **

Erik took a deep breath as he readied himself for bed. Christine was disgusted by him, he was sure of it. After seeing his face, after seeing him destroy his quarry, what else _could_ she be?

He looked down to see a cream-coloured cat wrap her tail around his leg with a soft mew. Well, at least there was _one_ female happy to see him. He gathered the feline in his arms, "Isis, how's my little lady?" she mewed in response.

"Ahh... the kittens will be coming soon," he said as he gently touched her stomach, "I'll make you a nice basket to nurse them in." The cat slipped out of his grasp and onto the bed, "No, my dear, that's _my _basket,"

She didn't seem to care as she made herself comfortable. Erik didn't have the heart to move her. Instead, he changed out of his Masquerade costume and pulled on a pair of yoga pants, then collapsed beside the feline, not bothering to slide under the covers. He was too emotionally and physically exhausted to even make the effort.

He wasn't sure how long he had been sleeping before he felt a sudden weight on his bare chest. No, not just his chest, but his entire body. Erik slowly opened his eyes, only to look up into Laura Ashton's face.

"You're not nearly as ugly in the dark," she said, "Though _I_ can still see your face far too well,"

"Get OFF me!" He hissed as he shoved the woman to the floor and sat up.

"Oh really, Erik!" she replied exasperated, "I thought you would _enjoy_ the feel of a woman! I know it's not something you have much - well, _any - _experience with!"

"How did you get in here?" he demanded.

"I have my ways," She stood gracefully and he jumped to his feet, immediately going on guard, "I was rather put off you killed my scout, you know," she pouted.

"Why are you _tormenting_ me?" he hissed, his eyes traveling to the stake on his night table. It was only a few inches away.

"_Tormenting _you?" Laura slid her arms around his neck before he could take his weapon, "Please. I just have a great _interest_ in you," she remarked, then pressed her face against his throat, inhaling deeply, "Hmmm... you smell _delicious_. Candlesmoke and sawdust... oh, and _blood_, of course. It's something you're so very _good _at spilling... "

He quickly grabbed her shoulders and held her at arm's length, "I'm not one of your _meals_," he snapped, unaffected by her attempts to unsettle him.

She met his eyes, deciding on a different strategy. "_My_ but you _are _in good shape!" she replied as she slowly traced her fingers over his bare torso, "It's a shame that after all these years, no woman has yet enjoyed your lovely body." She shrugged, "I suppose your _face_ scares them away,"

He raised his brow, "If you're here to rip my throat out, let's get on with it already!" he grasped the stake and prepared himself for her attack.

She fought the urge to take him up on the offer, and let out an exaggerated sigh. He seemed so easily distracted by pretty women, after all. "You know, I have this wonderful eternal youth now, but it seems my _appetite _has grown stronger then I expected,"

"Sucking a human dry is not enough to satiate you?" he asked coldly.

"Oh, I don't mean THAT appetite," she waved a dismissive hand in the air, "No no... I eat well. I'm talking about my OTHER appetite."

Her irises darkened as she met his eyes, "You were such a passionate boy, Erik," she explained, "I could hear it when you sang, I could see it in your art. I so desperately wanted to know the mysterious masked boyI was infatuated with the way you moved, the way you talked, the secrets you hid. And it wasn't just me, " she noted, "Didn't you notice the effect you had on your female classmates?"

"I sent _one _running into traffic, apparently," he scowled.

Laura laughed at that, grating on Erik's already raw nerves. "Touché," she replied, then grew serious, "No, Erik, you made us girls think naughty thoughts. We were _fascinated _by you," she shrugged, "...well... provided we didn't know what lay beyond the mask. I'm sure our reactions to you would have been different if we _had_. Did I ever properly thank you for granting me that _to-die-for _gift?"

"What do you _want_ from me, Laura?" Erik asked impatiently.

She suddenly forced him back against the wall with inhuman strength, catching him off guard as she pinned him with her own body, sliding her fingers into his hair. "What I _want_," she began huskily, "Is to see if you can still fascinate me _now _the way you did _then_!"

She tried to pull his mouth down to hers, but Erik quickly realized what was happening. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged her back, effectively stopping her attempt as he pressed the stake against her un-beating heart. "What _game _are you trying to play here?" he demanded, his voice harsh, cold. He narrowed his golden eyes, "Were you trying to catch me off guard so you could _kill_ me?"

"Well, yes," she began, "But..." Laura slowly ran her eyes over him, "My tastes have recently strayed to the _morbid_, you know. Before I _killed _you, I would have enjoyed you in my _bed_ first!"

"In your-" he was disgusted as he tossed her away from him, "You have a _sick _sense of humour!"

"Who said I was joking?" she asked as she tried to resume their earlier position, only to be caught with the point of Erik's stake against her chest once more.

"Don't make me _do _this, Laura," he said, eyes filled with the unspoken guilt of what had caused her transformation in the first place.

"Awww... is Erik's conscience bothering him tonight?" she taunted.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his hand tightening around the stake. He knew what he had to do... but... he _couldn't_!

He had been the cause of Laura's death once before, he could not be the cause of it a second time!

"Laura..." he began, but there was no answer.

Erik's eyes flew open, only to find himself alone in his room once again, a quiet feminine laugh whispering around him like the wind.

* * *

**Christine's dorm room - the next day**

Christine was exhausted as she entered her dorm room. Professor Gudicelli had put her through the ringer, asking her what had happened to all the progress she had made earlier.

What could Christine say? _My tutor won't talk to me because I saw his face?_ She was sure that wouldn't go over very well.

Christine sighed as she threw herself on her bed and stared up at the grate in her ceiling. She furrowed her brow for a moment - she could have sworn she saw something moving up there. She closed her eyes, hoping it wasn't rats.

_"Christine..._" a voice whispered in her ear.

Her eyes shot open, "Wha...!" she sat up and looked around her room, but she was still alone. Meg was watching DVDs in the dorm lounge. Christine closed her eyes again and lay back down.

"_Miss Daaé... we need to talk..._" the voice was right beside her now.

"Hello?" Christine called out, opening her eyes again. She was still alone. "I'm hearing things," she muttered.

"Not entirely," came the answer.

"ERIK!" Christine gasped, "Where _are_ you?" she asked, then paused, "And... why am I hearing you in my _head_,"

"Interesting little trick, no?" came Erik's reply, "It's amazing the things one can teach himself when he has nothing better to do,"

"I'm not going to lay here and talk to myself! Let me see you!" She demanded, quite sure she was no longer imagining his silky voice.

"You've seen quite _enough_ of me, Miss Daaé," he answered as if he were on the bed beside her, whispering in her ear. "You've seen things you _shouldn't_ have seen!"

Christine frowned, "Are you going to threaten me with _bodily harm_ if I say anything?"

A dark chuckle answered her, "Now why would I _harm _such a _body_?" Erik's comment made her blush, "No, Miss Daaé... I ask you simply to respect my privacy,"

"I don't divulge other people's secrets, Erik," Christine assured him.

There was silence for a moment, until she spoke again, "Erik..." she began quietly, knowing this would probably be the only chance she had to talk to him before he disappeared on her, "I... I'm not doing very well with Professor Gudicelli. She said I've taken a step back. I was so much better when-" she stopped. "...Erik..? Are you still here?"

"Yes... I'm still here," came his quiet reply in her ear again.

"Please tutor me again?" she asked softly. The silence seemed endless, "Erik?"

"Sing for me," he answered finally, "Let me hear what Carlotta found so distasteful,"

Christine slid off her bed and stood up, then began to sing the aria she had sung for Professor Gudicelli. When she was done, there was more silence. She sat back down on the bed. Maybe Erik thought she was horrible too.

"Beautiful sound, but _no _emotion," he spoke, "It's no wonder she found it less then impressive!"

"Well whose fault is that then?" Christine snapped angrily, "You're supposed be _tutoring_ me!"

"It's not _my_ fault that you cannot bring yourself to sing a romantic aria!" he hissed, "Perhaps you should think of your pretty boyfriend when you sing!"

"I _was_!" she insisted.

She then heard a harsh laugh, "And this is all the passion he incites in you? You sound like you would rather be asleep! How is one ever expected to enjoy you on stage if _that _is all the emotion you can muster!" There was a short pause, "... but you're only nineteen. One can't expect much,"

"You make it sound like I'm still a _child. _How old are _you_?" she asked.

She was surprised when Erik actually answered, "Thirty."

Christine was silent for a moment, then responded with a muted "_Oh_." She thought he had been perhaps a few years older. Not an entire decade.

"And I don't see you as a _child_. I see you as a _young woman_," he explained, then continued "... albeit naïve and immature,"

Christine frowned at that, "Well, it could be worse. I could be lurking around campus pretending I'm a _ghost_!"

Silence for a moment, then, "Perhaps this _ghost _should go back to lurking and stop trying to make contact with the living then!" he growled, "They are starting to get rather bothersome with their whining!"

Christine heard a shifting of clothes, and looked at the grate above her, seeing Erik's shadowy form moving away.

"WAIT!" she cried out as she jumped up, "I'm sorry, okay?"

She quickly climbed on her bed and reached her fingers up through the metal grate, "I'm sorry for... for not leaving when Laura confronted you. For following you on Halloween," she replied, then her voice turned pleading, "Please, don't be mad at me."

"Chrissy?" Christine turned to see Meg just walking in the door, looking at her rather oddly. The strawberry blonde furrowed her brow, "Did you offend the _ceiling _in some way?"

Christine heard an amused male chuckle in response to Meg's comment, "Uh... I just... um... think I need some rest," Christine replied quietly, "Bad day,"

"Poor gal," Meg replied, then held up the DVD she had fetched from her shelf, "It's Japanese horror movie night in the student lounge. Nothing like a dead girl crawling out of a Well to lift a gal's spirits." Christine shook her head, and Meg shrugged, "Oh well, your loss," she then headed back out.

Christine glanced back up at the ceiling, and slid the grate open, pulling herself up into the air duct. She furrowed her brow. Had Erik disappeared so quickly?

"As I recall, it was _Meg_ who invited your company, not _me_!" Erik's voice came from behind her

Christine quickly jumped and let out a cry as her head hit the top of the metal tunnel. "I can't believe you actually _lurk _up here!" she said with a distasteful frown as she sat against one of the cool metal walls and rubbed her head.

With an impatient sigh, Erik moved in front of her and took her head in his hands, running his fingers through her hair to see where she had hurt herself.

"This is your own fault for letting your curiousity override your common sense," he replied, rather annoyed.

Christine closed her eyes and let her hands drop to her side. The feel of those long, thin fingers in her hair was... _nice_... until he found the sore spot that made her cry out.

Her eyes flew open, giving her a wonderful view of Erik's chest, currently hidden beneath a form-fitting black shirt. "Aren't you uncomfortable up here?" she asked.

"I've gotten used to enclosed spaces," he muttered, then glanced down at her, stilling his hands, "Are you claustrophobic, Miss Daaé?"

Christine took a shaky breath, "A little..."

His voice was unemotional when he spoke, "I suppose I can thank my fellow classmates for curing my claustrophobia when I was a child."

Christine furrowed her brow, "What do you mean?"

"Let's just say, Miss Daaé," he began coldly, "...that young ones can think of very creative ways to taunt their resident _freaks_," he spat the last word out as if it was bitter.

He suddenly brought his hands away from her head, "You are fine. You didn't break the skin, though you'll have a bump there in the morning. I suggest you go back to your room and find ice to put on it,"

"Erik," Christine grabbed his arm, trying not to notice how firm it felt beneath her fingers, "What did they do to you?"

"Nothing to concern yourself over! Now go!" he pushed her unceremoniously through the opening, causing her to land on her bed. She looked up at him, only to see him frowning down at her before he pulled the metal back in place and disappeared.

* * *

**Dean Giry's Office **

"You're late," Dean Giry spoke as Erik entered her office.

"I had to take care of something," he replied, not wanting to tell Giry he had been talking to Christine. "What do you have for me today?" he asked.

"You're going to a comedy club," she informed him.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"There's a new hypnotist in town. One of our scouts heard about his act, and went to see it for himself. It turns out the man doesn't merely hypnotize, he enthralls," Erik nodded, immediately understanding why the Hunter's Guild was concerned. "He chooses young girls as his volunteers, and takes from them something they've deemed important - usually a piece of jewelry. A very talented thief. Now the Guild doesn't want to jump to conclusions, of course, but we cannot simply believe this is all just natural talent,"

Erik nodded, "When is he performing next?"

"Three days from now," she replied as she handed him the address, "I trust you to keep yourself well hidden so he doesn't see you,"

"Trust me, Antoinette. No one sees me unless I _want_ them too,"

Giry raised an eyebrow, "I've been questioning that lately. Certain people HAVE seen you." She frowned, "You were supposed to blend in at the Halloween Masquerade, not stand out and be noticed."

Erik opened his mouth to explain, but Giry interrupted, "Oh yes, Meg told me all about it - Christine saw a friend of hers at the Masquerade, but he brushed her off. Miss Daaé was very upset about it, apparently. Meg didn't tell me much about this _friend_, of course, but I can take a guess who it was,"

"Well I certainly know nothing about Miss Daaé's so-called friends," Erik replied. "The truth of the matter is, Antoinette, I was hiding in plain sight. What better way for someone like me to blend in at a Masquerade?" He then stood up, "I will go to the comedy club and do what needs to be done. Really, you _must _stop worrying so much, Madame," he said, then quickly headed out.

* * *

**Practice Studio - Arts Building - 3 days later  
**  
Christine stretched herself out as she held onto the ballet bar. In her attempt at improving her vocal skills, she had neglected her ballet skills, and it was starting to show in her dance classes. 

Luckily, she had Meg with to assist her, as Meg was currently the top student at Ravelle as far as dance went.

Now if only Christine could find a good vocal tutor.

"Hey, Chrissy, check this out," Meg said as she went up to the bulletin board, "There's someone new at _Improv Tonight_ and they're offering the ladies of Ravelle College half-price tickets. Want to go?"

Christine shrugged, "Sure, why not. It's not like I have a vocal lessons to worry about any more," she muttered bitterly, hoping perhaps that Erik was lurking about and heard her.

Meg raised an eyebrow, but brushed off her friend's comment, "Girl's night out, then. Should be fun," Meg replied, and with that, the plans were set.

* * *

**Improv Tonight, Comedy Club  
**  
Erik stood at the back of the smoky room, hiding in shadow as he often did. It seemed it was ALL he did, in fact. He was quite sure he could rarely, if ever, walk in public as a normal man. He had been scrutinized every time he had tried it. 

His golden eyes took in the scene before him, watching each person with suspicion, waiting for the horrible comedian on stage to finish his act and allow Erik's quarry to take the spotlight.

As he searched the room silently, his eyes fell upon a familiar sight - a lovely girl with long chocolate curls, and her strawberry blonde companion.

"Damned it," Erik muttered to himself. It seemed he would never get away from Christine Daaé, though Erik had started wondering if he even wanted to.

Erik's thoughts were interrupted when the unfunny comedian left the stage, replaced with the headliner - a hypnotist by the name of Mageaik. Erik could sense immediately that he was not what he appeared to be.

He watched as Mageaik looked through the audience for his first volunteer. A young female. Meg eagerly stood up, but it seemed Mageaik was more interested in her companion - Christine.

Erik frowned, not liking that idea at all.

With much urging from Meg, Christine got her feet. The hypnotist approached the girl carefully, his eyes never leaving hers. He asked Christine if she agreed to be his volunteer, and Erik realized it was too late to ask. Mageaik had already started.

"Now, my dear... tell me... what is the most valuable object you possess?"

"A barrette," she began slowly. "My father gave it to me... before he died,"

Erik slowly stepped out of the shadows, readying himself if Mageaik dared to ask Christine any more personal questions. Her life story was not for public display.

"Do you have it on you?" the hypnotist asked, his voice low and smooth. Christine nodded. "May I see it?"

Christine reached to the back of her head and freed her hair from the silver barrette that nestled there. She slowly held it out to Mageaik, and the hypnotists' hand began to reach for it.

It was then that Erik sensed a shift in the atmosphere that no one else would have noticed. The air became thicker, heavier, more electrified. Mageaik was upping his power.

As Mageaik's fingers brushed over Christine's hand, Erik saw the creature's eyes go wide, "Fascinating!" he gasped.

Erik knew the hypnotist was trying to see into the girl's mind, and it seemed he had found something that greatly interested him. Erik knew anything that interested one of THEM was better kept AWAY from them.

"Excuse me," Erik began as he suddenly came up beside Christine and pulled her hand away, effectively stopping Mageaik from completing his mind scan, "You will not take this girl's only remembrance of her father,"

"It was not the _barrette_ that has caught my interest..." Mageaik said as he looked up at the one who interrupted him. After a moment, his eyes filled with recognition, quite aware of who Erik was and his purpose for being there.

The masked Hunter was well-known among the Hunted.

Without another word, Mageaik quickly fled, leaving Christine in her current state. Erik heard the crowd start muttering what a horrible thief Mageaik was, to try and steal a father's last gift to his daughter.

Erik knew he had to pursue Mageaik, but first things first.

He slowly turned towards Christine, "Take her hand, Little Giry," he ordered. Meg did so. Erik placed a gloved hand on either side of Christine's face, tilting her head up and forcing her to meet his eyes.

"Miss Daaé..." he began, his voice even smoother then Mageaik's had been, "When I count to three, you will return to yourself. Do you understand?" a small nod from Christine.

Erik leaned forward, bringing his lips to her ear, as his voice whispered low and silky, "1... 2... 3..." Christine suddenly blinked, then grew dizzy for a moment. With a supportive hand on her arm, Meg helped Christine sit down again. Erik crouched in front of her, "Are you ok?" he asked.

Christine nodded, "Yeah... what... what happened? I remember standing up... then..." she shrugged.

"You seem very susceptible to hypnotism," he replied, though he knew it was not merely hypnotism Mageaik had used, "Now if you'll excuse me," he straightened up.

"Wait," Meg grasped his arm, "How did you know what to do?"

He tugged his arm out of the girl's grip, "One of my many skills, Little Giry. I have a lot of free time on my hands," he replied. His eyes then darted around the room uncomfortably. He saw the looks, heard the whispers.

_Who's the guy in the mask?  
Is he part of the show?  
What is he hiding?_  
_Is he scarred? Burned?_  
_Doesn't he realize he looks like a freak?_

Erik forced himself to block out their words as he spun around and rushed out of the club to find Mageaik.

* * *

**Holli Street **

Erik pursued Mageaik down the street, weaving in and out of the light human traffic - more people who couldn't stop staring at him, muttering amongst themselves. Of course, many thought he was running from police, or some such thing. Little did they know he was the _chaser_ not the _chased_. He sensed Mageaik down a nearby alley, no doubt hiding amongst the dumpsters. How perfectly fitting.

As quiet as can be, Erik stalked over to one of the large metal boxes, and threw open the top. Mageaik jumped out with a horrid hiss, crouching low, preparing to pounce. Erik could see a stain of red along the creature's lips, and knew immediately why he had been hiding in the dumpster - he had found dinner. Erik would let the police sort out whatever remains were left. He had one purpose, and one alone.

But first, he wanted some information, "Tell me, Mageaik, is there a reason you found that girl so fascinating?" he asked. He needed to know what had happened in the Improv club.

Mageaik simply smirked, "Oh, she was very pretty, wasn't she?" he asked, then grew serious, "The others will find her soon enough,"

"And why is she so important?" Erik demanded.

"Someone was looking for her," He replied.

"Pity they'll never know you _saw_ her," Erik replied. Before Mageaik could run again, Erik pulled out a coiled length of rope and whipped it smartly around the hypnotists' neck, yanking hard and snapping the bone. Unfortunately, it did not kill him, but Erik knew it wouldn't. He simply stared at the creature that lay limply at his feet, "Tell me who was looking for her,"

Mageaik looked up at him, and gurgled out an almost incomprehensible sentence. Erik could only make out one word, "..._daddy_..."

Erik frowned, "Your _daddy_ isn't here... and you have proved to be quite useless. Good-bye," with a graceful swing of his stake, Mageaik was dust.

* * *

**Dean Giry's Office**

"Someone was looking for her, you say?" Dean Giry asked as Erik reported what had taken place at the comedy club. Giry thought a moment, then turned her attention back to Erik, "I want you to keep on eye on Christine," she said, "Just in case another attempts to find her,"

Erik was taken aback, "First you tell me to stay away from her, which I have. Now you tell me to keep an eye on her. You really must make up your mind, Antoinette!"

Giry sighed, "I'm sorry, Erik, but if someone is looking for her... if it's one of _them_ specifically, I worry for Christine's safety," she looked up at him, "Of course, you are not to tell her the truth of why you're keeping such a close eye on her,"

"She knows nothing about my _night job_," Erik assured Giry, but that was a lie. Christine had seen him fight a creature the night of the Halloween Masquerade. He had not yet told his Minder about that, nor did he plan to.

Giry simply nodded, "Then give her singing lessons once again," she said, "It is as good an excuse as any,"

Erik sighed, "Very well, Antoinette. As you wish..." He stood up to go, "Oh, and may I suggest you find out about Mageaik's _daddy_. His _sire_, I gather. The one who _made_ him. It was the last thing he mentioned before my stake found his heart,"

Giry nodded once more, and Erik headed out.

* * *

**Christine and Meg's dorm room - that night **

"What's wrong with me, Meg?" Christine asked as she turned towards her friend, who was currently reading a book as she relaxed on her bed, "Erik has made it abundantly clear that he wants me to stay away from him... and yet, I can't accept that! Why? Have I totally lost my mind?"

"Maybe you feel guilty," Meg replied with a shrug, still studying her book.

"Guilty?" she asked.

"For the way you acted when you saw his face," she explained, "Maybe you feel bad for him or something. Or maybe you just want to save him from being such a miserable bastard."

Meg finally looked up at her friend, "You were like that in High School too, you know. Wanting to befriend the less popular kids," she offered a small smile, "You're a very compassionate person, Christine. If someone is upset, you want to make them feel better. If someone is lonely, you want to keep them company. It's why everyone liked you, you know,"

"_Erik _doesn't seem to like me all that much," she muttered. Meg opened her mouth to say something, but closed it immediately. "What?" Christine asked when she saw her friend's face, "What's with that look?" Meg shook her head, and quickly turned back to her book, "MEG!" Christine snapped, tossing a pillow at her, "Tell me!"

Meg looked up at Christine, then let out a sigh, "Maybe the fact that Erik is giving you such a hard time is the very reason you keep _bugging_ him," she explained, "You _hate_ being ignored," she raised an eyebrow, "_Especially _by a guy,"

Christine dismissed that with a wave of her hand, "It's not like that. Erik's _different,_" she said.

"Being _different_ doesn't make him any less _male_, Chrissy,"

Christine frowned, "What are you saying, Meg?"

"I'm saying that maybe you're _fascinated_ by him in some strange way,"

Christine's mouth dropped open, "How _could_ I be? I hardly know him!"

Meg shrugged at that, "Just something to think about, that's all," she said, then settled back with her book once again, silently declaring the conversation over.

**END EPISODE FIVE**

* * *

_**A/N: The movie that Meg is referring to at the beginning is "Ringu". It was a well-known Japanese Horror Movie before the English version was made a few years later, known as "The Ring" **_


	6. Episode 6: An Evening Out

**A/N: I just want to thank everyone for your reviews! They are much appreciated. :) **

* * *

**Erik: The Vampire Hunter**

**Episode 6: An Evening Out**

By: Elektra

**Theater Populaire - Manager's Office**

A tall lanky man with slicked back hair and a mustache stood in the center of the room. At his side, stood a shorter wider man, his graying hair messy from an earlier exertion, his mustache far bushier then his counterpart's. The latter shifted nervously, while the former seemed the epitome of calm as he held out a large leather-bound book and began to read.

"Nahmen Ah Tum Lekara ..." The taller man raised his voice, "Be gone from here, ye ghost of the past! Lest ye soul wander no more! Return to the Earth from whence you came, and rest ye at last!"

With a great flickering of lights, crash of thunder, and cold wind, the entity Gilles André had desperately chased into the office he shared with Richard Firmin finally disappeared.

Both men sunk down in their respective seats with a quiet sigh. After a moment of silence, André spoke, "So our ghost is gone then?"

"I believe so. I'm sure those silly ballet rats will inform us if It's not," Firmin answered.

"Tsk tsk, Richard," André replied, "Your future daughter-in-law may be one of our ballet rats soon enough,"

"Ach, Richard Jr. has yet to ask Meg to marry him. Don't get ahead of things here, André,"

"Perhaps she will be your _stepdaughter_ first, then?" André asked with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

Firmin paled, and both men jumped as a high-pitched voice filled the room, "Monsieur Firmin, there's a call for you on line one."

Firmin pressed the intercom button, "Who is it?"

"Madame Giry, sir," came the reply.

André chuckled at that, "I'll leave you to your lady, Firmin." He then rose and headed out of the room.

Firmin picked up the phone with a smile, "Hello, Antoinette."

"Hello, Richard," came the reply, "Am I interrupting anything?"

"Oh not at all, my love. André and I were simply getting rid of a rather annoying ghost that has been haunting our theater these last few months. All seems well now."

"That's good," Giry answered, "I must ask a request of you. I'm asking _all_ the Hunters, in fact," she explained, "There was an incident the other day. Erik came upon a hypnotist - one of _them_ of course - and It seemed to have taken an interest in one of my students. When Erik asked what It's business was with this girl, It simply said someone was looking for her. Of course, he tried to get more information, but It was uncooperative. It only said the word _dadd_y, and left it at that. The creature's name was Mageaik. Now Erik and I are guessing it was referring to It's sire, but we're unsure. If you can keep your ears open for any information, that would be greatly appreciated."

"Of course, my dear! I'll spread the word and ask my contacts if they've heard anything about it," a pause, then, "Antoinette, are you available this evening?"

He could hear the smile in her normally stern voice when she replied, "Yes, Richard, I'm always available to spend a lovely evening with you,"

* * *

**Ravelle College - Christine's dorm room **

Christine sat at her lap top, her eyes reading the email before her once again. There, written in red font, was a message that made her brow furrow.

Miss Daaé,

I request your presence  
Please arrive at the usual place at 10pm  
this evening

The Ghost

Christine put the email into her _saved messages _box and glanced up at the grate above her bed. She hadn't seen Erik for a few days now, but she was sure he had been lurking around. Every so often, she'd hear quiet shuffling through the vent over her bed. She found it slightly creepy, but she didn't try to confront him. She didn't want to find herself in those narrow metal tunnels again.

"Christine?" Meg asked when she saw her friend concentrating on the screen before her, "What's going on?"

"The ghost commands my presence again," she replied, "I can't figure out why, though, considering he's been avoiding me as much as possible."

"_The ghost_?" Meg repeated, then the realization hit her, "The campus ghost is _Erik_?" she let out a laugh, "Wait until the others hear about this."

"NO!" Christine snapped, "You can't tell ANYONE, Meg! Please? He has enough to worry about as it is," she looked away, "I'm sorry I said anything. I just thought you figured it out already."

"I guess I _should _have. I mean, the guy gives you lessons in the Arts building, and he lurks around here whenever he feels like it," Meg shook her head, then studied her friend, "You're really that worried about people finding out?" she asked. Christine nodded, "Ok, Chrissy. I won't tell. Promise."

"Not even Raoul," Christine insisted.

Meg opened her mouth to protest, but a stern look from Christine changed that, "Not even Raoul," she pouted.

Christine only hoped Meg would keep her word.

* * *

**Le'Meiux Restaurant (that evening) **

"Please, Megan, calm down," Giry said into the cell phone to her frantic daughter, "I'm sure RJ didn't mean it the way it came out," she assured her only child, "Well why don't you just call him and talk to him about it then. Perhaps he didn't realize it offended you," Giry offered. "Very well, dear. Good night now," she disconnected the call and turned to the man before her, "You should tell your son to hold his tongue once in a while, Richard."

Firmin sighed in the seat across from Giry, "Oh my. What did Richard Jr. do now?" he asked, "Sometimes RJ speaks before he thinks."

"Well, he made a comment about another girl in front of Meg," she replied. "Of course, the girl in question was an actress on a television show and therefore obviously not someone Meg really needs to be concerned about, but this was in the common room with several other students around," she said

Firmin smiled slightly, "Yes, RJ does have an eye for the ladies, but I assure you, Antoinette, he cares very much for Megan."

"I believe he needs to convince Megan a little _more_."

Before Firmin could respond, something out the window caught his attention a woman was being chased by two men. Two very fast men, "Antoinette," he nodded to the scene outside, the rest of the patrons obviously oblivious to it.

Giry pursed her lips, "I suppose we must do what we must do," she then told the waiter they had to step out for a moment but would be back, and that she would leave behind her purse for assurance.

Firmin and Giry quickly rushed outside and grabbed the two creatures before they could make a meal of the woman, who had now fallen to the ground sobbing.

The two Hunters were shoved aside by their quarry, "Check out the old geezers. They think they can take us," one started, the other snickered, cursing rather colourfully in response.

"Old?" Giry raised an eyebrow as she pulled her stake from the folds of her dress and chucked it at the first one's head as Firmin lunged after the second. The first dodged the weapon and tackled Giry.

Giry was nothing if not tough, however, and immediately shoved It off, grabbing her stake once more and dusting the target easily.

Firmin started punching the second one in the stomach, his fists then cuffing it about the head. It was obvious Firmin was currently lacking his weapon. In an effort to stop the assault, the second creature shoved Firmin hard to the ground. Giry immediately tossed Firmin her stake. He quickly caught it and jumped back to his feet, lunging once more at his quarry, weapon held high as it sunk neatly into the creature's chest, turning it to dust.

The two Hunters stood facing each other, both trying to catch their breaths, "Forget your stake again, Richard?" Giry asked disapprovingly.

Firmin offered a sheepish shrug, and a small smile, "I suppose, Antoinette, I am getting a little too old for this," he replied. When the two turned to tend to the woman who had been the victim of the two creatures, they noticed she was long gone.

"Oh well. I do not suppose anyone will believe her anyway," Giry replied, then grasped Firmin's outstretched hand as the two headed back into the restaurant to continue their meal in peace.

Neither could figure out, however, why their flushed faces and disheveled looks were garnering such odd smiles and winks from the wait staff and other patrons.

* * *

**Ravelle College - Arts Building (Two hours later)**

Christine hid under the window of the strings room nervously. She was early and was sure he wasn't there yet.

She waited, and finally heard the music from the room. He had obviously snuck in, as he seemed wont to do. Christine slowly raised herself to look in the window and saw the dark shadow over the piano. The window had been left open a crack and Christine slid her fingers underneath, pushed the glass up and quickly crawled through.

"I was unsure if you'd show up," came Erik's cold voice.

Christine spun to see Erik staring at her. She dusted herself off, "I came for my lesson. At least, that's why I thought you asked me here."

Erik shrugged, "I'm surprised you still want to be _near_ me." He flicked on the overhead lights and sat on the piano bench.

Christine frowned, getting annoyed at his coldness, "I know you've been prowling around the ventilation tunnels watching me these last few days, and to be honest, it's starting to freak me out a little. You mind telling me what's going on?"

Erik answered her words by slamming his hands down hard on the piano keys, the discordant sounds echoing in the small room. Christine shrunk back. She had never seen him like this! Catching him unmasked, catching him fighting that… _thing_… had brought out the storm beneath the surface.

Erik closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He looked down at the piano, and began to play. At first, it was a harsh angry sound, but then slowly the music eased. It became gentle and rhythmic.

And then he sang. Not just _any_ song, however, but the aria she had tried to sing for him a while ago, the one he claimed she sang without emotion, without passion. _His_ voice, however, held such passionate emotion that Christine was almost on the verge of tears. Tenderness, sadness, heartbreak, loneliness. All these things filled her as Erik sang.

Christine sunk down on the chair beside her, mesmerized by the heavenly sound filling her ears. She closed her eyes, then parted her lips and joined his voice with her own, their sounds wrapping around each other like a soft blanket - or a lover's gentle arms.

When the song ended, Christine slowly turned back to him, only to see something in his eyes she had never seen before. It frightened and excited her at the same time.

"So," Erik finally spoke, his voice filled with hushed awe, "You _are_ capable of feigning passion," he cocked his head slightly, "And why did you not you sing like that for Professor Gudicelli? When it actually _mattered_?"

Christine opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. She really had no answer... except to say _he_ wasn't there. She didn't know why, but she always seemed to sing better in his presence.

Christine shook her head and bit her lower lip nervously, "Erik," she began hesitantly, "I get the impression that you _hate_ me for some reason."

"_Hate_ you?" he repeated, "No, Miss Daaé. I don't think I could _ever_ hate you," he then looked away, "But I'm afraid I may have dragged you into something you _shouldn't_ have been dragged into."

"Does this have to do with that girl who followed me a few weeks ago?"

Erik clenched his jaw, the warmth gone from his voice, "I'd rather not talk about her."

"Is she a friend of yours?" Christine pressed on.

"_Friend_?" he snapped, "Laura can't make up her mind whether she wants to _kill _me or _kiss _me right now!"

Christine blinked, "_Kiss_ you?" she asked quietly.

"Never mind, Miss Daaé," he said, "Laura is not quite right in the head."

"Oh, Erik! _That _was hardly complementary!" Laura spoke as she leaned into the window.

Erik swore under his breath, immediately going on guard and moving a little closer to Christine, "How are you going to torment me _tonight_, Laura?"

"Trust me, not _everything _I want to do with you will be _torment_," she gracefully slid through the window, "...provided you give me what I want."

"What is it you _want_?" Christine asked warily, looking back and forth between the two.

"Oh, hello little one," Laura began condescendingly, "Why don't you go play with your toys and let the adults talk, ok?" She then turned back to Erik, "I don't understand you, Erik. I'm offering you something _no_ hot-blooded male would refuse!"

"Perhaps if you weren't planning to _kill_ me afterwards," Erik muttered under his breath.

"Well at least you'll die _happy_!" Laura replied.

"Leave him alone!" Christine insisted angrily.

"Miss Daaé, this does not concern _you_!" Erik hissed.

"Oh, but maybe it _should_, Erik. She seems so very interested in you," Laura slowly turned to Christine, a cold smile on her lips, "So defensive of a man she knows nothing about," she shook her head with a mock sigh, "Silly naïve little thing! You have _no _idea _who _he is. What he _does _in the wee hours of the night when he's not busy composing his lovely music or teaching pretty girls to sing."

"Silence, Laura!" Erik ordered angrily.

"Oh please," Laura waved away his words, "She'll find out eventually if she keeps hanging around you. Hard to ignore those little wooden stakes you always keep in the pockets of your coat, or the smell of _death_ on your clothes," she frowned, then turned back to Christine, "Really, little one - didn't you see him kill my scout a few weeks back?"

"I saw him save a girl's life!" Christine replied.

Laura laughed coldly, "Perhaps it's YOUR life that needs saving!"

In a flash of blond hair and pale skin, icy hands forced Christine against the wall, a pair of sharp fangs nipping at her throat. Christine cried out, a hand quickly going to the blood trickling down her neck.

"Oh Erik, you hit the jackpot here!" Laura began, "She's untouched, just like _you_!" Laura's laughter was cut off as a wooden stake just nearly missed her head.

"Care to _test _whether I will kill you or not?" Erik's voice was dark. Dangerous.

With an animalistic growl, Laura lunged at her attacker. Christine eyes went wide as she slid to the ground, watching two blurs struggling with one another.

Laura had the advantage, having knocked the air out of Erik with her sudden tackle, but his strong fingers quickly wrapped around her throat, shoving her off and pinning her to the ground beneath him as he held another stake ready, "I was informed that someone was looking for Miss Daaé. Who was it?" he demanded.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Laura replied, then dug her long nails into his chest, throwing him off with inhuman force as she leapt to her feet, coldness in her tone, "Quick to protect an innocent maiden, though, aren't you?"

Erik grunted as he came at her, crushing the female against the piano, still clutching his weapon. She freed herself from his grasp before the stake could impale her ample bosom. Laura's eyes went wide, her breath coming in quick gasps. If he knew what his passionate anger was doing to her, he'd be shocked... and appalled

She seemed to be having quite the opposite affect on _him, _however. Erik truly wanted to _kill_ her!

"Touch Miss Daaé again, and _all _the guilt that makes me hesitate now will be _gone_!" He growled dangerously as he grasped Laura's golden hair and dragged her to the window. He deposited her quite ungracefully outside, and slammed the glass down with a bang.

Having rid himself of the trash, Erik immediately raced to Christine's side, his hair mussed, his clothing disheveled. She could see a tear in his shirt, a violent slash of red against the pale skin of his chest.

His masked face hovering over her was the last thing she remembered before she passed out.

* * *

**DeChagny Residence **

Raoul dialed Christine's cell phone once again. She had not answered it earlier today and had yet to return his message.

"Hello? Christine Daaé's cell," that voice was most certainly not Christine's.

"Meg?" Raoul asked, "Where's Chrissy?"

"At her vocal lesson" Meg replied. "Or... at least, _trying_ to have a vocal lesson. Erik's been a little grumpy about that lately,"

A pause, "Erik?" Raoul asked, "Her _employer _is the one giving her lessons?"

Meg was silent for a moment, "Um... she... didn't tell you?"

Raoul frowned, "No, she didn't. Why is she taking lessons from her _boss_?"

"He's not her boss... I mean... not really," she stammered, "You know, maybe _Christine_ should explain,"

"Well, considering I can't get a hold of Christine, perhaps _you_ should explain."

"I knew I should have just let the phone ring," Meg muttered. She then took a deep breath, "Ok, here's what I understand - they have a barter thing going. He tutors her in vocal, she runs errands for him. It's all very simple."

Raoul's concern eased a little, "He must be a very talented old man," he joked lightly.

"_Old_?" Meg repeated, "But he's only-" she immediately stopped. "Uh, yeah," she continued quickly, "He's very talented. Gotta go, Raoul. I'll tell Chrissy you called. Bye."

Before Raoul could ask Meg about her sudden erratic behaviour, the phone went dead. He tried to call back, only to be sent straight to Christine's voice mail.

Raoul hung up, a frown on his lips - He was now starting to wonder about this multi-talented _Erik_.

* * *

**Ashton Estate - an hour later **

He almost did it!

Laura was surprised. _Upset_, even. For laying a hand on his precious little student, Erik had come so very close to _killing_ her! The look in his eyes when she jumped at him were no longer the eyes of the guilt ridden man she had taunted several nights ago, but the eyes of a Hunter out to destroy his Quarry.

His amber eyes had turned dark. Cold. Dangerous. And it excited Laura in ways she couldn't explain.

She had meant to kill him tonight, truly... but hideous as Erik was, there was something about him that whet her morbid appetite. If he hadn't tossed her out the window to tend to that little slip of a girl, she would have gladly shown him how _much _he affected her.

Laura sat before her mirror, a translucent reflection looking back at her. She wanted him dead... but first, she just _wanted _him. Alive and well. In many different ways...

Laura sighed at her reflection, "Shame on you, Erik. You DO like to make things difficult for a girl, don't you?"

* * *

**Erik's room **

Christine slowly woke to find herself on a comfortable bed, a light blanket tucked around her. She pushed herself up on her elbows to see a very pregnant cream-coloured cat curled up on blankets and pillows in the far left corner.

Erik, on the other hand, sat near a candle, whittling away at a piece of wood and allowing the scraps to fall neatly into a box at his feet. She would have questioned his intelligence at having a candle so close to wood, but he seemed used to it.

Erik turned to Christine, golden eyes practically glowing beneath the black mask, "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Ok... I think," she put a hand to her neck and felt the gauze bandage taped there, "What happened?"

"She tasted you," he replied, almost as if such a thing were normal everyday behaviour. "She didn't take enough to hurt you. I think it was more the shock that caused you to pass out,"

Christine didn't really know what to say to that, "Um... where are we?" she asked instead.

"A haunted cellar," he offered lightly, then grew a bit more serious, "An abandoned room in the basement of your Residence," he explained. "Few people know about it. The students certainly don't come down here if they can help it. There are _ghosts _lurking around, you know,"

Christine's eyes darted around the room. On the cluttered desk beside Erik, she could make out a monkey music box, various blueprints, a laptop, and a television/DVD player. She looked off to her right and saw another table covered with colourful paintings, detailed writings, and advanced musical compositions, "Are those all yours?" she asked.

He glanced over at the mess she indicated, "I get bored easily," he replied, "I need to keep myself occupied," he nodded to the shelf beside her, bringing her attention to the thick books that lined it.

She squinted in the dim candlelight and saw poetry, architecture, art, music, and various leather-bound novels that she had always bought the Cliff-notes for back in high school, lacking any patience to actually finish them.

"My God!" she gasped as her eyes strayed back to Erik, "Laura wasn't kidding when she said you were a genius."

"I'd hardly call myself that. I think she was taunting me more then making a factual statement." He turned away, unable to look at the girl before him. "I'm sorry you got involved in this, Miss Daaé. I never meant for it to happen." He looked down at the stake in his hands, his voice soft, "I never meant for a lot of things to happen."

She slid off the bed and walked over to him, crouching down beside his chair as she ran a hand through the wood shavings in the box, "And exactly what IS it I'm involved with?"

"A ghost from my past. A woman who's death I inadvertently caused," he said no more.

Christine looked up at him, "That girl looked pretty _alive _to me."

"Only in body. Her soul is long gone," he explained.

Christine furrowed her brow, "You make it sound like she's a-" she stopped, her eyes coming to the sharpened piece of wood in his hand, realizing what, exactly, she had witnessed on the night of the Masquerade.

"My god..." she gasped, losing her balance and falling flat on her backside. Christine straightened herself up, and spoke once she found her dignity again, "How... how did you cause her death?"

"We were in high school together," he began, "She wanted to see my face..." he stopped.

"And?" Christine pressed.

"And... she got her wish," he answered, then his voice grew cold, "Turns out the poor girl was so overwhelmed by the sight of my _angelic_ good-looks that she ran head first into a car," he met Christine's eyes and saw she was not amused with his morbid humour. In fact, she looked a little disturbed by it.

He glanced back at the stake, the coldness fading, "I thought she was still in a coma."

Christine did not need to ask any more. Laura had woken up, and was quite different from the girl he knew.

Christine then noticed the tear in his shirt, and remembered that she hadn't been the only one hurt tonight, "Erik, you were bleeding..."

"I'm fine."

"Let me see," she insisted.

"I _told_ you I'm _fine_," he snapped angrily.

"Erik," Christine's voice was soft, though perhaps a little shaky at his sudden mood swing, "You _are_ allowed to let other people worry about you once in a while."

He spoke icily, "Oh yes. _So many _have worried for my well-being!"

Christine spoke nervously, "Well, I'm sure your _mother _has-"

"NEVER speak of my _mother_!" he hissed.

One look at the raw anger in Erik's eyes caused Christine to jump to her feet and back away, "I... I'm sorry, Erik! I only... only want to help!"

Erik closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his temper.

With a swift flick of his wrist, he impaled his stake in the dart board hanging a few feet across from him, the sharpened wood sinking into the bulls eye and remaining there.

Yes, Christine _was _only trying to help. She knew nothing of his past.

"Very well..." Erik opened his eyes and glanced at her, "Look at it. Then I'll take you back to your room," He tugged off his ruined shirt and revealed the red-stained gauze he had placed on his injury. Christine stepped towards him again, tentatively reaching a hand out. He quickly caught her wrist before she made contact, "I already stitched myself up," he informed her.

"You... _stitched _yourself?" she looked up at him with obvious surprise, then shook her head, "Where are your first aid supplies?" she demanded. He tapped his foot against the bottom drawer of the desk, and Christine knelt down and quickly opened it, pulling out what she needed.

"May I?" she asked as she indicated the dirty gauze. He reluctantly nodded as he sat down once again. Christine carefully removed the gauze from his chest and stared at the perfect black stitches that closed his injury, "You must have an incredibly high threshold for pain," she spoke in wonderment, not seeing Erik flinch as she put an antiseptic-soaked cotton ball against his chest.

"I've had a lot of experience nursing my own wounds. It's a must in my life," he answered, then looked away from her. She was so close to him now. He could feel the heat radiating off her body, feel the gentleness of her touch as she pat the gauze down, feel the brush of her long silky hair against his bare arms...

Erik suddenly stood up and flicked the light on, quickly preventing his thoughts from wandering where they shouldn't, "I'll take you back to your dorm," he held a hand to her, and Christine took it as he helped her to her feet.

Erik turned to blow out the candle on his desk, and her eyes fell to his bare back. Faded scars criss-crossed his pale skin. They looked like welts, as if he had been whipped at some point. She slowly went up to him and traced one of the scars with her fingertips.

Erik spun around to face her, "DON'T!"

"I'm sorry!" Christine replied taking a startled step back, "Did it hurt?"

Erik swore under his breath. _Hurt_? No. But just the sensation of her gentle touch was enough to send his blood racing. "The physical scars are nothing now," he replied, masking his true emotions almost as well as the black leather masked his face.

"Who did this?" Christine demanded, her voice thick with outrage.

"That's not important," he responded ever so calmly.

Erik grabbed a clean shirt from his dresser and slipped his arms into it. Christine grabbed his hands before he could tend to the buttons, her concern apparent as she met his eyes, "Who _hurt_ you, Erik?"

He tugged his hands out of her grasp, "People I'll never see again. Now come - I'll take you to your room before your friend wonders where you are. It's late."

"No."

He blinked at that, "Pardon?"

"I said NO. I'm worried about you."

"Listen, Miss Daaé-" his voice caught in his throat as the brunette suddenly slid her arms around his waist.

Erik was quite sure he forgot to breathe.

Her warmth. Her softness. Her sweet scent. All wrapped up in one thing... one thing not even his own _mother _could bring herself to give him.

_A hug._

**END OF EPISODE SIX**


	7. Episode 7: Different

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter**

**Episode 7: Different**

**15 years ago**

_She knelt beside her husband, his body unmoving, his clothing stained with his own blood. She was in shock. Yes, Hunters were known to fall in battle, but she never thought, never dreamed, that her own husband would be one of them. She could not stop the tears streaming down her face. _

_Meg! Her precious little Meg would be without a father now! And she wouldn't even be allowed to know the truth of it – that he had died bravely, giving his life to save her mother._

_So distraught was Antoinette that she didn't see her enemy come up behind her until it was too late. Her weapon had rolled away. Too far to reach it now. Antoinette cried out, covering her head with her hands as she waited for the final deathblow._

_It never came. _

_She lifted her eyes to see a tall boy, no more then a teenager, standing before her. He held a stake out, as if he had just impaled something before him. The child wore a mask of black leather, and had coldness in his eyes that she never knew a young child capable of. _

_He clutched the stake tightly, his knuckles growing white. His eyes shifted to the pile of dust at his feet, "He's gone now," he said softly, "There are no more," _

_Antoinette swallowed, finally finding her voice, "How… how do you know?" she asked._

_He met her eyes, the coldness she had seen earlier replaced with gentle warmth, "I don't sense anything," he replied simply._

_Antoinette spoke shakily, "You **sense **them?" _

_The boy nodded, "Always," he held his free hand out to her, "Are you ok?" he asked._

"_You knew!" Antoinette gasped, "You knew how to kill it!"_

_He nodded once again, "I've killed a few of them." _

_Antoinette accepted his outstretched hand and he helped her to his feet, his grip stronger than any young boy's should be, "Please…" she began, nodding towards the stake in his hands, "Give that to me now," _

_He ran his graceful fingers over the sharpened wood, "This one is mine. Yours is over there," _

_She turned to see the stake she had lost earlier still in the same place, "Why do you have one of those?" she asked._

"_I needed it," he answered._

_She reached up to grasp his shoulders, "Where are your parents?" she demanded, assuming they must be Hunters. They had no right to bring a child into the fold! The Hunter's Guild did not want anyone under the age of 18 to be compromised._

"_No one wanted me" a pause, then he continued, "Especially after what happened to… HER," his sad golden eyes looked to the ground. He shrugged lightly, "I ran away," _

_Antoinette didn't ask him to continue. "Where did you get that weapon?" she queried gently._

"_I made it a few years ago. I sometimes run into those… THINGS. But I get them first," he offered a small smile, "I **always** get them first…"_

_Antoinette studied him for a moment, seeing far more than the boy realized, "What's your name?"_

"_Erik," he answered. _

_She nodded, "Erik… come with me…"_

* * *

**Dean Giry's Office – Present day**

Giry cradled the phone, a frown on her thin lips. She had not been able to find out any information about Mageaik's "daddy". The Guild did not know why one of _them_ would be looking for Christine a simple College girl who's only tie to the Guild was her odd friendship with Erik. The Hunter's Guild was not happy about the fact Erik had even made such a friend. He was their best Hunter. To have him compromised was, quite possibly, the worst thing that could happen.

Giry jumped as her personal cell phone rang. She quickly picked it up, "Yes?"

"Moma?" came Meg's voice, "Have you seen Christine? She didn't come home last night,"

Antoinette Giry froze. She had a pretty good idea where Christine may be, "I'm sure she'll be along, Meg. Perhaps she's with Raoul?"

"No, he was looking for her too," Meg replied, then let out a soft sigh, "Maybe she spent the night at a friend's place and just forgot her cell. I went out after Raoul called, so I could have missed her,"

"Yes. That's quite possible," Giry replied, "I'm sure Christine is quite safe, Meg. You need not worry,"

"If you say so, Moma. I'll talk to you later then,"

"Good-bye, Meg," she said, and disconnected the call. She closed her eyes and massaged her temples, feeling a headache coming on, "Oh Erik," she muttered quietly, "What have you done with the girl?"

* * *

**Erik's room**

Christine slowly opened her eyes only to be greeted by darkness.

It took her a few moments of sleep-induced haze before she remembered what had happened. She had kept Erik company despite his insistence that he return her to her dorm.

She had been concerned about him. About the secret he had revealed to her, about his state of mind after dealing with Laura. She didn't want to leave him alone until she was sure he'd be ok.

She really hadn't meant to fall asleep, but he had offered to read one of his over-sized books to her. She couldn't remember the title, but his smooth silky voice had ended up lulling her off to dreamland.

Christine shifted her position and called out into the darkness, "Erik?" she whispered softly. She heard nothing as she slowly found the edge of the bed and slid off. On her hands and knees, she searched blindly, getting a little nervous now. Had he just left her in this dark dank room alone?

She reached out in front of her, crawling along the ground until her hand fell upon the open book. She noted that it was rising and falling with the sound of slow deep breathing. She pushed the book away, feeling guilty that Erik had resigned himself to the hard ground and left her the bed.

Such a gentleman was rare nowadays. Raoul probably would have shared the bed _with_ her. She frowned in the darkness - knowing Raoul, he would try and share _other _things as well.

Checking to see if Erik's wound had opened up and bled through his clothing, Christine's fingers found only smooth warm skin instead of a shirt. She blushed as she became acutely aware of him.

She quickly found the rough stitching of his wound. The gauze was gone, and everything seemed in order. He _was_ very good at tending his outer wounds. A shame he had no one to help him tend the inner ones.

"Erik?" she spoke again.

Instead of an answer, he spoke, "A hug," he muttered, his voice thick with sleep, "I only want a hug…"

"What?" she asked, then realized he was dreaming. Erik was still very much asleep, and seemed to be having a conversation with someone.

"Don't!" Erik suddenly cried out, his fingers reaching out and digging into Christine's shoulders fiercely, "Please! Don't hit me again, Momma!"

"_Hit_ you?" Christine was alarmed. _"Momma?" _What type of dream was this? Erik seemed lost in a nightmare... or perhaps a _memory_, his body twitching, his fingers tightening on her shoulders. "Wake up, Erik, please! Your mother isn't here!" her words weren't helping, "Erik, _wake up_!" she tried to shake him awake, but to no avail. He only gripped her tighter.

"I'm _not _a demon, momma!" he shouted, "Don't make me wear the mask again! I can't _breathe_… I can't… please… please take it off!"

Christine quickly reached out and slid the mask from his face, "It's off, Erik, ok? It's off…" she assured him as she placed a hand to his cheek.

She gasped quietly as her fingers felt the skeletal bones beneath the soft skin, then closed her eyes and scolded herself. It was only a _face_, after all. A _shocking _face, but a face all the same. One _could _get used to it... given time.

Had Erik really been called a demon? Christine remembered with irony the old saying _a face only a mother could love_. Judging from Erik's current dream, he had a face his mother _couldn't _love.

Erik's fingers pressed harder into Christine's shoulders, causing the brunette to let out a painful cry. How _strong _was he? "Wake up, Erik! Please? You're _hurting_ me!" Christine.

His grip on her grew gentler, "Miss Daaé?"

"Yes, it's me," she said, but instead of a reply from him, she felt his long graceful fingers slide from her shoulder, up her neck, and to her cheek, gently tracing their way down her jaw. She closed her eyes and swallowed nervously, frightened by his informal touch.

"Christine?" Erik asked, using her name for the first time in a long while as his fingers outlined her lips. Christine found her pulse quicken at the chaste touch.

As if suddenly realizing what he was doing, Erik immediately let go of her, "Forgive me," he replied, "I was asleep. I didn't mean to-"

"It's ok, Erik," she interrupted , both disappointed and relieved as he pulled his hand back, "No harm done."

His voice grew calmer, more formal, "Why are you still here, Christine? I thought you'd have found your way back to your room by now,"

"I... was still worried about you, " Christine replied as she bravely ran her fingers over his bared visage once more, familiarizing herself with his distorted features, his normal mouth...

"My mask!" he cried out as he realized her hand was touching the bare flesh of his face. He grabbed Christine's wrist and roughly shoved her away, "Why! Why did you take it off?" His voice was filled with raw anger.

"You were having a nightmare!" she replied "You said you couldn't _breathe_!" his anxious reaction to her well meant intentions miffed her. Did he think she had meant him harm?

"NO!" he cried out, pushing himself to his feet, "Where is it? Where? What did you do with it?" he demanded, "NO one touches my mask. NO ONE! _Damn you_, Christine!"

"Erik... I... I'm sorry! Here..." Christine quickly lifted the mask from the ground where she had placed it, holding it out with a shaking hand, "Take it!"

Any odd sensations he had provoked in her moments ago were now replaced with fear. She did not want to feel this man's wrath.

There was a sudden knock at the door, and Erik ripped the mask from her hands. A few seconds later, he turned on a nearby lamp, his face covered once more.

Erik glared at Christine, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched with a barely restrained fury. A complete 180 from his earlier tenderness, "NEVER touch my mask _again_!" he hissed, but before Christine could respond, he yanked the door open, "WHAT!" he demanded.

"Erik?" A startled Dean Giry stood before him, stepping back from his rather volatile greeting, "I'm looking for Christine."

"Get her _away _from me!" he demanded as he made room for the older woman to walk in, "Now!"

Giry stepped into the room, only to see Christine sitting on the floor, her t-shirt and jeans rumpled from sleep, hugging herself as she nervously studied the man before her.

"Christine?" Giry started, "Meg was asking about you…"

Christine looked up at the older woman, "Dean Giry? How did you know I was-" she stopped.

Erik had mentioned only a few others knew of his whereabouts. It seemed the elder Giry was quite aware of the campus ghost after all. Christine just shook her head and grabbed her sneakers from the other side of the room, tugging them on quickly.

She jumped to her feet and went up to Erik, her fear now replaced with anger, "If you're quite done _yelling_ at me," she began, "I'll be spending the day with _Raoul_. Though under the circumstances, I'm sure _you_…" she poked ineffectively at his chest, "...will be glad to have me _gone_!" she then turned on her heel and marched out of the room, waiting impatiently for Giry down the hall.

Giry looked up at Erik for a moment, and heard him swear under his breath. He quickly turned his back to Giry, his voice strained, "Please close the door behind you, Antoinette. Thank you."

"Erik," she began softly, "Was there any call for your behaviour just now?"

He shook his head, the guilt clear in his voice, "Just a fool's paranoia, Antoinette," his voice then became a whisper, "An incredible fool,"

* * *

**Perault and Ardene – dusk**

Erik brooded silently as he replayed the morning's events in his head. He knew he should have held his temper in check, but feeling her gentle hand on his corpse's face had made him feel _vulnerable_. Something he had vowed _never_ to feel again.

Is it any wonder he had grown angry? The girl should have known better then to touch his mask.

Erik stopped walking when he noticed his current location. He was in an alley behind a restaurant. Two dumpsters lined the wall, and an oil pan sat atop one of them, waiting for proper disposal. Just as the guild had described. The scouts had reported two quarry here.

The scouts, however, were wrong. He could sense his quarry in the vicinity, and there were _five,_ not _two_.

Powerful arms suddenly grabbed him from behind, catching him off guard. He broke the hold, and used his leg to trip his attacker up, then took the moment to pull out his weapon and impale It. He saw another rushing at him and swung his arm with efficient ruthlessness. Number 2 was turned to dust as well.

He was feeling better already...

The third tried Its attack next, and Erik sent It to Its knees with a sweeping kick, and then elbowed the fourth attempting to sneak up behind him. The fifth was lunging towards him, and Erik quickly jumped atop a nearby dumpster, kicking the filled oil pan in It's face. It cried out, trying to rub the burning liquid from Its eyes.

He didn't move his body fast enough to avoid the grasp of 3 and 4, who had since recovered. One of them pulled him down from his perch and held him, his head snapping back in response to the other one's violent punch.

For a moment, Erik found the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. He saw the next punch coming and lunged to the side, causing the 3rd creature to hit his kindred instead.

Erik broke free from the fourth and whirled on It, a coiled length of rope whipping out and wrapping around It's throat. With a hard yank of his arm, he heard the gratifying snap of a neck. One graceful swipe of his stake finished the job.

The third – the one who had punched him – stood rigid before him. Erik calmly wiped the blood from his mouth, his adrenaline racing, "You're going to ruin my good-looks," he hissed coldly, then slammed the stake through Its torso, a cold smile playing on his lips.

"Four down, one to go," Erik said as he saw the final one standing a few feet away, looking rather shocked that Its companions were gone. It turned to run, and Erik hurled the stake towards It like he was tossing a dart.

Bullseye.

He picked his stake from the new pile of dust and stood in the middle of the empty alley, catching his breath. The successful destruction of his quarry always filled him with a cold rush of delight.

Erik was then cruelly reminded that Christine's recurring presence was slowly starting to fill him with a _warmer _one...

* * *

**Meg and Christine's dorm room – an hour later**

Erik looked up upon hearing the surprised cry of Megan Giry coming through the door. He had made himself comfortable on Christine's bed once again, hoping to catch his student before she turned in for the night. He found her bed rather comfortable, her scent saturating the pillows he now rested his own head on. _Apples. Always apples_, he thought.

"I don't suppose Christine is with you, _Little Giry_?" Erik asked as he propped himself up on his elbows.

Meg swallowed the lump in her throat, "Um, no… she's still with Raoul." She saw something in his hand, "What is that?"

He held up a thorn-less red rose, twisting it between his fingers, "I upset her earlier. I was planning to apologize,"

"By sneaking into our room and invading our privacy?" she asked.

Erik shrugged as if he saw nothing wrong with that, "She turned her cell phone off."

"Yeah, she does that a lot," Meg replied.

"Where is she, Little Giry?" he spoke politely enough, but Meg knew it was an _order_.

"What are you going to do if I tell you?" she asked nervously.

"Steal her away from the pretty boy kicking and screaming, and drag her down to my underground lair to make her my eternal bride," he replied coldly, then noticed Meg's horrified expression, "I am being _sarcastic_, of course."

Meg blinked a few times, then immediately felt like an idiot, "Right..." she said quickly, "Um... well..." she cleared her throat, "Listen, I have an essay to write... so... uh... I'll tell Christine you were looking for her," she went to the door and held it open for him.

Erik simply stared at her, his golden eyes betraying no emotion, "Well, I might as well just stay here and wait for her then," he replied calmly.

"You... you _can't_," Meg stammered.

"Oh, I most definitely _can_, Little Giry. I don't want to take the chance and miss her, you understand..."

Meg looked away, "Listen, I don't know exactly what happened, but she told me she was mad at you. She... she won't _want_ to see you,"

"No one ever _does_. That doesn't stop me from seeking them out," Erik replied.

He lay back on Christine's bed and made himself comfortable once again, resting his hands behind his head. With a resigned sigh, Meg went to her desk and attempted to go through her books.

She was doing well... until she heard her mother's voice in her head, "_Megan Giry! You call that a Pointé? Look at your position! Turn your leg more! Align your foot!_"

Meg spun around only to see Erik still lounging comfortably. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, "Did _you _do that?"

"Hmm? Do _what_?" he asked innocently.

"I just heard... heard my mother's voice..."

"Do _I _sound like your _Mother_, Little Giry?" he frowned. "It must have been your imagination,"

Meg shook her head, muttering to herself before turning back to her books... only to hear her mother's voice again, "_Don't slump, Megan! I taught you better posture than that!_"

Meg jumped to her feet, "Okay, now that was _not_ my imagination!" She pointed a shaking finger at him, "You're making me _hear _things! Christine told me you did that to _her_ once!"

"Now how could I _possibly _make you hear things?" he asked.

"The same way you were able to snap Christine out of her trance when we went to see that hypnotist!" Meg accused, "You... can _do_ things like that!"

Erik dismissed her with a wave of his hand, "Go back to your essay, girl,"

"How _can _I when you keep _distracting _me?" she placed her hands on her hips, and turned back to her desk, "Fine! Here!" she ripped a page out of her notebook and scribbled something down, "Christine is at _Chez Léon_. Go and haunt her!"

He chuckled coldly, "Well, aren't you helpful tonight, Little Giry..." Erik stood up and bowed politely, taking the paper from her, "I appreciate your cooperation." He said no more as he walked out the door.

Meg sat back down and buried her head in her hands, "Crap... Christine is gonna _kill _me..."

* * *

**Chez Léon**

Christine delicately smoothed the napkin over her lap. She was wearing the ever popular _little black dress, _and didn't want it to be ruined by the dessert her and Raoul waited for. She smiled up at him, thinking him rather dashing in his smoky Armani suit. She was surprised he had chosen such an expensive restaurant though. She would have been just as happy with McDonalds.

"Did you enjoy the meal, Christine?" he asked.

"Oh yes. Very much! Thank you," she replied. He smiled at her response. He was so handsome when he smiled.

"You're quite welcome," he said, "More wine?" he held up the bottle.

"Raoul," she began nervously, "I'm getting a little tipsy, and… well, if they find out my age…"

"Too late to worry about your age _now_," he winked. When the waiter had come to take their order, he had not bothered to check Christine's ID. After all, the DeChagny's were well known, and if the youngest son was willing to spend one-hundred dollars on a bottle of wine, so be it.

"You can't wear a _mask_ in here!" cried a harried voice from the front of the restaurant, "We have a _dress code_, sir!"

"Forgive me, _sir_," came the overly polite, yet harsh reply, "but I will only be a minute, then I'll disperse from your fine establishment."

Christine froze, "No… no no no…" she placed her head in her hands. Why? What right did he have to—

"Christine?" the voice addressed her. She took a deep breath, then looked up, eyes filled with outright indignation. How dare he come barging in like this?

Before Christine could curse him for interrupting her date, the intruder crouched down beside her and held out a red rose, "An apology for my behaviour earlier,"

Christine's mouth dropped open as she hesitantly took the rose from his hand, fingers trailing over the smooth stem.

"Excuse me? Who are you and why are you giving a rose to my date?" Raoul demanded.

"_Raoul, _I presume?" Erik asked as he looked at the perfectly chiseled face of the young blond man sitting across from Christine. He remembered him from the Masquerade. The very sight of him made Erik seethe, "I've heard a bit about you," he studied the boy, a frown on his lips, "Can't say I'm overly impressed,"

"Erik!" Christine snapped.

Raoul furrowed his brow, "_Erik_?" he repeated.

"Um… yes. Raoul, this is... uh... this is Erik," she offered a weak smile as the man in question straightened up, making rather good use of his height.

Raoul studied the tall man dressed in black who now towered before him. The mask on his face stood out, despite his neat clothing. Was he trying to make some odd fashion statement? He certainly didn't belong among the diners at _Chez Léon_.

Raoul turned to Christine, "Erik - The bitter old man with bad rheumatism? The one you run _errands_ for?" he looked up at Erik again, "I think your description leaves a lot to be desired."

Christine had no answer to that. How could she even begin to explain?

"Forgive me, Mr. DeChagny but I asked Miss Daaé to lie about my age and health as my clients may otherwise think me a bit _eccentric,_" Erik answered

Christine was surprised to find him lying on her behalf.

"You see, there is a _reason _I conduct my business over phone, fax and email. I am very much a recluse and do not _like_ making public appearances." Erik glanced around the restaurant, quite aware of the situation, "Case in point," he muttered. He met Christine's eyes for a moment, then turned back to Raoul, "I shall leave you to your beautiful companion."

With a polite bow, Erik then turned on his heel and left before security had a chance to throw him out.

* * *

**Dean Giry's Office - The next day **

"You wanted to see me, Antoinette?" Erik asked as he sat in the chair before her desk.

"Yes. Meg told me you crashed Christine's date last night,"

"Ah yes, your _daughter _was quite helpful. She drew a map to the restaurant herself, in fact,"

"… after you snuck into her dorm room and _bothered_ her while she was trying to write an essay," Dean Giry pointed out.

"I wanted to apologize to Christine for my behaviour yesterday morning," he answered simply.

Giry was surprised at that. Erik was known for many things. Apologizing _wasn't _one of them.

"Speaking of which," she sighed and sat down across from him, "When I told you to keep an eye on Christine, I didn't mean _that_ closely. What was the girl doing in your room?"

Erik knew he could no longer keep the events of the last few weeks a secret.

"Very well, Antoinette, I suppose you should know -I seem to be haunted by a ghost. A girl I knew many years ago. The victim of the incident that caused me to run away at fifteen,"

Giry looked at him, "Laura Ashton?" she asked, "Wasn't she in a coma?"

"She woke up. Though a little less alive then she _had_ been,"

"I do hope you took the necessary precautions?" Giry asked. He glanced away, "Erik?" she waited, "Erik! Don't tell me you let her go!"

"I couldn't cause her death a _second_ time, Antoinette," he spoke softly.

"You have no reason to feel guilt!"

"And yet, I _do,_" he explained. "When Laura confronted me, I was talking with Christine. I told the girl to go, but she _hid_ instead. She witnessed Laura removing my mask."

He met Giry's eyes, "At the Masquerade, young Miss Daaé also witnessed me destroying my quarry," he ignored Giry's sharp intake of breath. Erik then described the night in question, how Laura came back, how Christine was attacked, how his _night job _was fully revealed.

"She _knows_?" Giry exclaimed, "She knows _everything_?"

Erik shrugged, "Not about the Hunter's Guild… but about _me_, yes. She knows. She stayed to keep me company," he raised his eyes to Giry. "She was rather concerned for me, Antoinette. I do not recall _anyone_ ever being concerned for me," a pause, "The girl even _hugged_ me! Something my own _mother _couldn't even bring herself to do!"

Giry shook her head, "You were told to _watch_ the girl, not get _attached_ to her,"

"I consider her a _friend_, nothing more."

"Are you _sure _you'll want nothing more?" Giry accused, "You're still a _man_, Erik. And a man will desire more then friendship from a lovely young woman eventually. Especially a lonely man."

He began to grow angry, "I would _never_ ask such a thing of her. Would you rather I remain _friendless_ for the rest of my life?"

"It is _better _if you remain friendless, Erik," Giry insisted.

"WHY?" Erik demanded, eyes flashing, "WHY would it be better? Come now, _tell me_!" His voice grew hard and angry, "_Tell me _why I must be denied what everyone _else_ takes for granted. _Tell me_ why I must stay in the darkness killing _vampires_ for the rest of my years!"

"Have you forgotten it's not just _vampires_ you've killed?" Giry snapped.

Erik's voice grew calm again, "Yes, well, _who_ gives me my _assignments_, Antoinette?"

"You're risking the entire Guild's _presence_ by growing so _close_ to this girl, Erik!"

He slammed his hands down on the desk, "And _you_ are risking my _wrath_! Tell me, in your _infinite _wisdom, WHY I am not treated like any OTHER HUMAN!"

"Because you're NOT like any other human!" Giry replied angrily, then immediately regretted her words.

Erik's voice turned to ice, "_Really_ now?" he asked, "Why would you SAY that, Madame?"

She quickly turned away, "Never mind, Erik. This isn't the time to-"

"OH but it _is_! I can't think of a BETTER time!" He was suddenly on the other side of the desk, grasping her shoulders tightly, forcing her to face him, "_Why _am I not like any other human?" he hissed.

She shook her head, unable to meet his eyes, "Please, Erik. I don't know all that much about it..." she took a shaky breath, "I just know that... that among all the Hunters ... there is always _one _chosen to... to handle the _other _threats,"

"You mean," Erik began coldly, "One who is _different_?"

Madame Giry nodded, "Yes, Erik..." she glanced away from him, "Now please, don't ask me any more,"

"You lead me to suspect the Guild knows _why _I am _different_, Antoinette..." his voice grew dark, his grip tightening, "I suggest you _ask_ them!"

"Erik, let _go_ of me!" she demanded.

There was such strength in the hands that squeezed her shoulders. _Dangerous _strength. Giry gasped as the tense moment was interrupted by the telephone.

Erik immediately let go of her, quickly coming to his senses. Giry took the moment of freedom and nervously grabbed the phone.

"Hello?" She waited a moment, then turned to Erik, "This is private, Erik. I'm sorry. But it's very important I take this call,"

"ASK him, Antoinette!" He commanded, knowing very well who was on the phone. "I want to know WHY! There is _far _more to _this_..." he indicated his mask, "...then merely an accident of _birth_!"

Giry took a deep breath and composed herself. She nodded in compliance, knowing better then to deny Erik this request. No, not a request. An _order_.

Although Giry was one of the few who could often carry on a normal conversation with the Guild's top Hunter, she had never been truly comfortable with him... or his volatile temper, "I'll try, Erik. Now please, I MUST take this call!"

"Very well... But I will not _forget_!" With an angry grunt, Erik spun on his heel and headed out of the office, slamming the door hard behind him.

Giry closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then turned back to the phone, "Sorry about that,"

"What's going on there, Ant?" came the male on the other side - Gus Leroux, head of the Hunter's Guild. "Was that Erik?"

"Yes," she said.

"What were you arguing about?" he asked.

"He... he wants to know why he's ... _different_. Why we ask him to do certain things we would never ask the _other_ Hunters to do,"

"And why bring that up all of a sudden?" Leroux asked.

A pause, then, "He's starting to care a great deal for the girl he is watching, and wants to know why we are insisting he live in darkness for the rest of his life."

"Must I send _another_ Hunter to watch the girl then?" Leroux threatened.

Giry took a deep breath, "I would not trust another Hunter to protect her as well as Erik could, but I cannot just flip a switch and force him to shut off his emotions."

"He's not allowed such _emotions_. You _know_ that!"

"You seriously expect the man to live his entire life _numb_? To never _feel _anything?"

"He's not allowed _distractions_, Ant! We need him as he _is_!" Leroux insisted.

"You want to make him no better then his quarry!" Giry realized.

"Sacrifices must be made for the greater good. He's our best weapon!" Leroux explained.

"Weapon?" Giry sputtered, "He's not an _object_, Gus - He's a _man_,"

"Is _that_ what you see when you look at him?" Leroux asked, "A _man_?"

Giry frowned, her patience wearing thin, "Yes, Gus. I see a _man_. A man who is finally feeling more then _bitterness _and _self-loathing_ for once. If you believe otherwise, then perhaps it's time you told myself, Erik, and the other Hunters _why_. You at least owe us _that_ much!"

A pause, then, "You don't need to know!"

"We have the _right_ to know! WE are the ones who _work _with him! Are you putting us in _harm's way_, Gus?" she demanded, a hand automatically rubbing a sore shoulder.

"Of _course_ not, Ant!" Gus snapped. Giry then heard him take a deep breath, gathering his thoughts.

When he spoke again, his voice was soft, but his words crashed around her like thunder, "But if Erik _did_ know the truth, then _yes_ - you, that girl, and _everyone else _most definitely WOULD be in harm's way!"

**END OF EPISODE SEVEN**


	8. Episode 8: Temperance

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter**

**Episode 8: Temperance**

By: Elektra

**CineScreen Theatre - Early evening**

Erik studied the scene before him. The blood splattered screen was showing an arts film he couldn't identify, and the dead bodies laying motionless in the red velvet seats were drained dry.

Unaffected by such a sight, he simply pulled out his cell phone and made a call, "Tell the guild to send some assistance, and a cleaning crew to CineScreen Theater on West 32nd," he informed Antoinette Giry.

Once Erik disconnected, he walked around the area, surveying the damage.

Art house theaters were rare here, and only known to those who frequented them. He was grateful for that, for it would mean this incident could be tidied up rather neatly.

He closed his eyes, trying to sense if his quarry was nearby. He was sure there had been more then one, as one alone couldn't drain this many adults.

His ears picked up a soft sound, and he turned towards it, his eyes noticing a flash of movement in the back row. He quickly went up to it, and saw a girl sitting on the floor, hugging herself, sobbing silently.

She cried out and jumped up when she saw him, stumbling away as quickly as she could, "Don't... please... don't hurt me..."

She turned to run, but he grasped her arm and spun her around to face him, "I have no intentions of _harming_ you, girl... but I need to know if you saw anything," he said.

She was far too frightened to speak, tears streaming down her face, struggling to free herself from his grasp. He took a deep breath, and met her eyes, changing the tone of his voice to one more soothing, "Calm now, I won't hurt you..." the sound was warm and silky, and he saw her fear begin to ease. She slowly stopped struggling and met his golden eyes, "Now tell me," he continued hypnotically, "Why are you here, and what did you see?"

She could not turn her eyes away from him now, "I came here with a friend," she replied languidly, "I went to the bathroom, and when I came back... I saw _this_," she closed her eyes, "I didn't know what to do. Emily wasn't here, and-"

"Emily is your _friend_ then?" he asked, keeping his tone smooth. The girl nodded, "Do you know where she went?"

The girl shook her head, then opened her eyes and glanced at the purse beside her, "This is hers. She left it here. I know she wouldn't have gone home without me,"

Erik nodded and dropped his alluring tone, "May I have a description of your friend? And _your_ name, if you please,"

The girl suddenly blinked as if just waking up from a dream. Erik was quite aware of the effect his voice could have on a person, "I... um..." the girl was nervous again, "Linda. My name is Linda," she slid a now-shaking hand into her pocket and pulled out her wallet, flipping through it until she found what she was looking for. She handed a picture to Erik with trembling fingers, "That's her. My friend, Emily,"

Erik studied the picture. A young blonde girl with a bright face and wide smile. He noted she was rather pretty. It was no wonder the monsters had taken her, "May I borrow this?" he asked, "It may help,"

Linda's eyes looked hopeful, though still frightened of the imposing man before her, "Can you _find _her?"

"I make no promises," he answered. The room was then filled with people - five cleaning crew and three hunters. The Guild had worked quickly. The Hunters came up to Erik, asking him what he knew. He informed them of the events as he understood them, and of the possible hostage situation.

He left Linda to the cleaning crew and headed out with the Hunters to find their quarry.

* * *

**DeChagny Residence  
**  
Christine sat comfortably on the couch with Raoul as the two enjoyed a DVD on a television that would have cost Christine a year's pay. 

"Chrissy..." Raoul began softly, "I'm worried about you,"

Christine looked up at him, brow furrowed, "Why?"

"You've been spending a lot of time with Erik lately... and I don't like it."

Christine allowed a small smirk to play on her lips, "Are you getting jealous?" She teased, but saw he was not amused. The smirk faded, her voice growing serious, "I understand your concern, Raoul. But don't be so quick to think the worst of him."

"What _am _I supposed to think then?" Raoul asked.

Christine sighed, "Think that he's just a guy who keeps to himself, and doesn't cause anyone problems. He's decent enough," Christine explained, "And he deserves _better_ then what he's been given,"

Raoul studied her for a moment, "You seem rather defensive of him,"

"_Someone _has to be," Christine replied.

"And so it has to be _you_?" he asked, "Or is there something you're not _telling_ me?"

Christine didn't like the tone of his voice, "I don't appreciate your accusation, Raoul."

"Have you even seen his _face_, Christine?" Raoul pressed.

"No," Christine lied quickly. The last person who had any right to know what Erik hid behind the mask was Raoul.

"Then how do you know anything he says is the truth? He could be _lying_ to you about _everything_!"

"He isn't lying to me about his _talent_," she replied. "Professor Gudicelli was telling me how proud she was that my voice was advancing so well. She thinks it's because of HER teaching, of course..."

"Christine..." Raoul took her hand, "I'm just concerned he may try to take advantage of your good nature. He's ten years _older _than you, and-"

"_And_..." Christine interrupted, "...there's no need for _concern_," she then rested her head on his shoulder, her voice growing softer as she entwined her fingers with his, "But I _do_ appreciate you caring so much."

"I've _always_ cared," he said. Christine nodded in understanding, giving Raoul a kiss on the cheek before snuggling up against him as they continued to watch the movie.

Raoul found, however, that he could no longer pay attention to the screen before him. He was unable to stop his thoughts from wandering as he absently ran his fingers through Christine's silky curls.

He had to find out what Erik was hiding and protect his girlfriend from whatever plans the eccentric man had for her - whether she wanted him to or not.

* * *

**Elsewhere**

Erik shifted in the passenger's seat as he stared out the car window, his long legs scrunched up uncomfortably to make room for the two men in the back.

He was trying his best to ignore the idle chatter of the three other hunters he was with: middle-aged André and Firmin, as well as the newly transferred Reyer, who seemed the oldest. He knew the former two to be theater managers by day, and found out the latter had been an orchestra conductor.

Firmin was currently driving, prattling on about his lady love - whom Erik knew to be Antoinette Giry. The two had met, interestingly enough, through their children, as Meg was currently dating the divorcee's son, a fellow Ravelle College student.

"So Erik, I've heard a lot about you! You're apparently one of the best, if not THE best, Hunter the guild has," Reyer began from behind him, "But since Firmin is going on about his lady, I'm sure a young man like yourself must have a few ladies of his _own _to talk about."

The other two gasped at Reyer's harmless comment. André and Firmin knew better then to ask Erik about personal matters, especially when it concerned the opposite sex.

"Reyer," Firmin began quickly, catching Erik's dangerous glare beside him, "Did you say you were celebrating an anniversary?"

"Oh yes... my thirtieth," he replied brightly.

"Ahh, thirty years with the same woman. Must get tiresome," André joked.

"Oh! Not at all! My Pearl is wonderful. I could never tire of her," Reyer sighed wistfully. He then glanced back at Erik, "Tell me about yourself, son," he began, "Are you some wonderfully famous person who must hide his identity?" he joked lightly, indicating Erik's mask, "You'd be surprised at who you come across where _I'm_ from. People you wouldn't expect to ever be Hunters,"

"Stop the car!" Erik ordered.

"Oh Erik... I'm sure Reyer didn't mean any offense by his comment," André replied nervously.

"STOP the CAR!" Erik repeated, his voice hard and cold. "Or we'll lose our QUARRY!"

Firmin quickly did as Erik commanded without question.

"Did you see something?" Reyer asked.

"No. I SENSED it," Erik replied as he jumped out and headed towards a building currently in disrepair, far ahead of the other three.

"I'm sorry..." André began as he came up to Reyer. "You should have been properly briefed before working with him," he explained, "Erik is a little _different_ then everyone else. Don't ask him about his mask, his love life, or how he senses the creatures."

"I don't understand," Reyer began, "Humans CAN'T sense them!" he stopped as a realization dawned on him, "What, exactly, is he _hiding_ behind that mask?"

Firmin took a deep breath and finally spoke, "I've never seen it _personally_, but from what I understand, he is rather... _unsightly_," he shrugged, "Which also explains why one shouldn't ask him about women."

"No wonder he's our best Hunter," Reyer muttered. "Poor man..." he shook his head and took a deep breath, "How often have you worked with him?"

"Only a few times," Firmin replied, "He usually works alone."

Reyer understood. "Have you ever wondered about him? He's certainly raised _my_ curiousity," André and Firmin looked almost afraid to speak. Reyer just sighed, "Perhaps we should ask our supervisors a bit more about him."

"Do you think we should be concerned?" André asked.

"I don't know anything about Erik," Reyer replied. "Has he ever given you CAUSE for concern?"

The other two seemed a little hesitant to answer, but it was André who finally spoke, "He seems to enjoy the kill a little too much," he began, then his voice grew quieter, "And there's something about him that gives Firmin and myself a chill."

"Then all I can suggest is that we keep an eye on him," Reyer replied, "...And hope he never mistakes one of _us_ for the creatures,"

"Reyer, Firmin, André! MOVE!" Erik ordered his fellow Hunters as he waited impatiently at a rusty door built into the warehouse before them. They briefly wondered if he had heard their conversation, though they knew they had been out of hearing range.

With Erik, however, one could never be sure.

"There are seven inside," he explained.

Reyer's eyes went wide, "But there are only _four_ of us!"

Erik frowned, "I've fought five on my OWN," he replied, "I will take on the ones closest to the door. Firmin - take the left. André - take the right, and Reyer - take what's left. Are you ready?" the men nodded, following Erik's orders without question, "Then we go!"

The four men held their weapons ready - crossbows as well as stakes - and barged inside.

Erik immediately went after the closest three, leaving the other Hunters to deal with the rest. He swung a wide roundhouse at the first one who attacked, catching It across the temple. He then shot out a hard punch to It's stomach, sending It back against a wall, allowing It to become easy fodder for Erik's stake.

The second attacked from behind, and Erik spun around, his long leg swinging out and flipping his attacker to the ground. He quickly dropped a knee hard into it's stomach, pinning it to the floor as he easily finished It off.

He didn't have a chance to see how the other three were doing as another rushed up to him and kicked the masked Hunter square in the stomach, briefly knocking the wind out of him. The momentary diversion inadvertently allowed his quarry to land a couple of blows to his person, which didn't sit well with Erik.

A rush of anger filled him as he swung a fist up, clocking the creature with an uppercut that smashed It's jaw and sent tiny spatters of blood spewing out. He _did_ enjoy the fact that these creatures bled as well as humans did.

Before the creature could gather It's thoughts, Erik caught his quarry in a headlock, forcing it down to the ground. He smashed It's head hard against the floor, indulging in the sickening crack of bone against cement. Once. Twice. Three times. It was overkill, he knew that, but it was too late to stop. This creature had raised his ire, and there was no turning back. Erik couldn't resist completely shattering It's skull with one more shot.

A cold dangerous smile spread across Erik's lips and a wonderful rush of adrenaline filled his entire body as he turned the motionless creature to powder.

Erik's euphoria didn't last very long as he sensed a fourth quarry coming up behind him. He whipped around to face it, only to find It become dust at his feet. Erik looked to see Reyer holding his freshly discharged crossbow a few feet away. The older man smiled at Erik and soon Firmin and André rid themselves of _their _quarry as well.

Once the creatures were gone, Erik's sensitive ears picked up a quiet sobbing. He followed the sound and came upon a locked door.

He motioned to the others, "There's a girl inside. I believe her name is Emily. Retrieve her!" His voice was harsh and demanding.

Firmin glanced at him, "And what about you?"

Erik looked away, "_I_ am _leaving_. I'm not one to comfort a frightened woman," he said. The other three looked at him, saw the coldness pour off his body, heard the danger in his voice.

Firmin and André did as they were told.

Reyer signaled the other two that he would join them shortly, and caught Erik before the masked Hunter could leave the building, "You need a _temperance_," he spoke as he rushed up to him..

"A _what_?" Erik replied sharply as he paused to face Reyer.

Reyer swallowed nervously. Perhaps this wasn't the best time to confront him ... but... "Something that can pull you back. That can _calm_ you." He took a deep breath, "Something that puts you at ease with the mere thought of it." He explained, "Like my Pearl does for _me_,"

"I doubt I will ever have much luck in such matters as _you_, Monsieur!" Erik began to walk on, but Reyer quickly followed.

"But surely you have _something_, Erik? Something that brings peace to the constant struggle inside you?"

"I HAVE no struggle! And you would do well not to speak of things you know NOTHING about!" came Erik's harsh reply.

Reyer stumbled back, frightened at what he saw in the man's eyes.

"I suppose I'm wasting my breath," he bravely continued, "But I suggest you DO find something, before it's too late."

He quickly headed back to the other two, and Erik watched as the three of them compassionately tended to the frightened girl they had found locked up. She had, quite literally, been through hell.

Erik wondered at Reyer's words. _Could _a time come when it would be too late? When the Hunt completely consumed him? And if so, what on Earth could possibly give him what Reyer insisted he needed?

Choosing not to think of such things any longer, Erik turned on his heel and headed out of the building.

Perhaps someday he would find the tranquility he so desperately required.

* * *

**Erik's room - later that night **

A soft knock on Erik's door caught his attention. Very few people knew he lived in the darkness of the Residence cellar. Only _one _ever came down to him.

Erik took a deep breath and glanced at the paper in his lap.

Maybe she would go away if he ignored her, allowing him to finish the musical composition he was currently scribbling. He really had no patience for Antoinette, nor her latest assignment.

He had even turned his cell phone off, preferring to be left in peace. He was attempting to find the _temperance_ Reyer insisted he needed. Surely it was here, in his music.

"Erik?" came a voice on the other side of the door.

He froze. The voice was not Antoinette's. It, in fact, belonged to the very person who had inspired the composition in his hands. He had never expected her to visit his _home_ of her own accord.

He moved off his bed and hid the paper in his desk drawer. He then grabbed his mask and slid it on.

"Christine," he acknowledged her with a nod of his head as he opened the door to allow her entrance.

The petite girl glanced into his room. It was dark save for the usual candle he always lit. Erik noticed her hesitation, and quickly flicked on the overhead light, extinguishing the candle between his thumb and index finger. He then saw she was hiding something behind her back.

"What's this now?" he asked as she suddenly held the object out to him. It was a book.

"I... thought you might like this," she offered, "Borrowed from the College library, so be careful with it. Or else you'll owe me whatever fines they charge,"

Erik slid the book out of her hands, trying to ignore the way his fingers accidentally brushed hers. He studied the cover, "Monsters of Myth."

Christine shrugged, "I saw it and thought it might be useful to you…" she studied the carpet, "Or maybe not. Maybe you already have it. I can borrow _another _book if you want…"

Erik took a few steps towards her, "No. It's fine. I _do_ find these stories fascinating," he leaned down, his voice low as if divulging a secret, "Although most of them are quite far from the _truth_,"

Christine shivered at that, "Please... I don't want to know,"

"Then I'll spare you the details of what I've seen," he placed the book on his desk.

"Um, I have an ulterior motive for coming here," Christine began suddenly

Erik turned back to her. _Of course_ there was another reason. He was foolish to think she had just come for his company.

"And what would your ulterior motive _be_?" he replied, hiding his disappointment expertly.

"My first semester vocal final,"

"Finals already?" Erik mused. He had forgotten the semester was almost over. The last few months had gone by so fast.

"Yeah. It's a good portion of our grade," she answered.

"And you want extra help, of course."

"Well, you've been teaching me so well," she offered a small smile, then realized how very near he stood now, "And... uh..." Christine swallowed nervously and took a step back, "I... really want to ace this,"

"Consider it done then," he replied.

Christine smiled up at him, "Thank you so much!" she said, "Is tomorrow ok? I mean... if you have time," she quickly added.

"_Time_ is all I have," Erik told her.

"Thank you," she repeated softly, "I ... I'll stop bothering you now," Christine turned towards the door, but before she could open it, Erik shot out a hand from behind her, holding it closed.

She quickly spun around to face him, startled at the mere inches between them.

"Regardless of our various _misunderstandings_ as of late," he began, "I don't find you _bothersome_ in the least,"

Christine nodded numbly.

Erik slowly slid his hand down the door, his fingers whispering against her arm as he wrapped them around the doorknob, "Goodnight, Christine,"

"Good night..." she replied, though her feet didn't seem to want to move.

Erik met her eyes, "Christine, I can't let you out if you're leaning against the door,"

Christine quickly tore her eyes away from him. "Sorry," she muttered, and moved aside. She said good-bye once again, and he offered her a polite nod, then watched as she disappeared down the hall.

Erik shut the door and closed his eyes as he listened to her making her way up the stairs.

He released the breath he had been holding and went to his desk, quickly pulling out the music sheet he had been working on earlier. He sat on the bed and put pen to paper, new inspiration bringing his music to life.

The girl was so very blind to the strange effect she was having on him...

* * *

**Dean Giry's Office - The next day**

Dean Giry looked up from her papers as a gentle knock echoed in her office, "Yes, come in," she called out.

Christine Daaé opened the door and walked in, looking rather nervous and a touch uncomfortable. "Hello, Dean..." she began, "Um... I... I wanted to talk to you,"

Giry motioned to the seat in front of her desk, "Go ahead, Miss Daaé," she started, "How can I help you?"

"It's more of a personal thing... but... I was wondering how you knew... knew I was in Erik's room the other day,"

Giry pursed her lips, "I know of all the goings-on in this school, Miss Daaé. Especially about the _ghost_ that haunts it,"

Christine furrowed her brow, "But how do you know he's here? And why do you let him stay?" she then quickly added, "Don't take this to mean I want him to leave. Not at all! I was just wondering if he'll be _ok_ here. I don't want to jeopardize him in any way!"

"He's in no danger from _me_, Miss Daaé," she turned away, "To be honest, _I_ am the one who brought him here. Oh, it was several years back now. He was a runaway, you see. I couldn't just leave him out in the streets," she looked back at Christine, "But that is all the information you'll get from me about him, you understand,"

Christine nodded, then nervously licked her lips, "Um... do you know... uh... what he does... at night?" she asked.

"He gives you singing lessons. Yes, Miss Daaé, I know,"

Christine opened her mouth to say more, but stopped, "Right..." she said quietly, "He tutors me. You're absolutely right,"

"Is there something more I should know?" Giry asked, testing the girl's resolve.

Christine quickly stood up, "No. Nothing at all," she answered, thinking Giry knew nothing about Erik's _night job_. "Thank you for talking to me, Dean," she smiled brightly, "I appreciate it," she headed to the door.

"Christine...?" Giry called out kindly, using the girl's given name for the first time, "Be careful,"

Christine turned back to her, "What do you mean?"

Giry leaned forward, "If you wish to be his friend, you must understand that he's been _alone_ all his life. He may not know how to behave properly with young ladies,"

Christine let out a soft laugh, "Erik's been every bit a gentleman, Madame,"

Giry shrugged, "_Gentle_, perhaps. But he _is_ still a _man_,"

Christine nodded slowly, "I understand. Thank you,"

"You're welcome, Miss Daaé," Giry replied, sitting back in her chair as she watched Christine leave the room. The older woman smiled slightly to herself.

Wouldn't Erik be amused to find that sweet little Christine Daaé was trying to protect the Ghost of Ravelle College...

* * *

**DeChagny Residence - Philip's Study **

"So... you're keeping an eye on the girl?" the tall broad male before Philip DeChagny demanded.

Philip nodded silently, trying not to meet his guest's eyes - dangerous eyes that could trick someone into doing things they wouldn't normally do. His eyes were almost as hypnotic as his _voice_.

"Good, good," the man replied, "We wouldn't want to jeopardize your finances, now would we, Monsieur DeChagny,"

Philip DeChagny paced his study, hands clasped behind his back, "I appreciate all you've done for us since my parents passed on... but ... "

"But _nothing,_" the man snapped, "You inherited your parents' debt, and all I ask is that you do what I _tell _you! Be grateful I am allowing you to KEEP your monetary assets,"

Philip shook his head, "I don't understand your concern over this girl. She is no danger to Raoul,"

"It's rather arrogant of you to think it is _your brother_ I am concerned for," the man replied. "I could care less about that boy. It is someone _else_ I want her to stay away from."

He made himself comfortable on Philip's leather chair and leaned back, "I _had_ put some of my _own_ people on the watch for her, but when I found that the younger DeChagny was currently courting her, I realized he could rid me of the problem without the mess..."

Philip looked back at his visitor nervously, "What do you mean by that?"

The man's chuckle was cold, "Nothing nearly as horrible as you're thinking, Monsieur DeChagny!"

He placed his feet atop the mahogany desk, his long muscular legs crossed in front of him, "It's something very simple, and something I am quite sure he'd be willing to do! Tell your brother to... oh, I don't know... ask the girl to come live with him - or some such _romantic _thing. He will think you a wonderfully supportive brother who is encouraging him to find his future happiness."

The man smiled an icy, almost _wicked _smile, his next words more a personal thought then anything aimed towards Philip, "Perhaps they will run off together and get married, and _HE_ will never see her again,"

Philip furrowed his brow, "And _who_, may I ask, is _he_?"

The man frowned, growing annoyed, "Someone whom I have my _own_ plans for! Do not ask about my personal business, Monsieur DeChagny. Just suggest to your brother that he take the next step in his relationship with the girl,"

Philip was hesitant, but really - the request was simple enough. Raoul would be more then happy to pursue Christine in a far more serious manner. "Very well, so long as this doesn't harm my brother or the girl,"

"No harm to them at all," the man replied, flashing a mouthful of perfect, though perhaps sharper then normal, teeth.

Philip agreed to the plan, but after showing the man out, he couldn't shake the sudden feeling of foreboding.

Regardless of what his guest said, Philip was quite sure that things would not end well...

**END OF EPISODE EIGHT**


	9. Episode 9: Learn to be Lonely

_**A/N: Special thanks to my new beta, Le Chat Noir!**_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

**Episode 9: Learn to be Lonely**

By: Elektra

Laura Ashton took in her surroundings. She had been told her presence was requested here, though she wasn't exactly sure _why_. It was a large, lavish house. Dark and foreboding, mysterious and almost frightening. Not that a creature like her would be frightened - she was, after all, what many nightmares were made of.

"Glad to see you have arrived safely," a deep voice shook the very air around her. She turned around to see a beautiful male towering over her. She quickly averted her gaze, his eyes sending an odd rush of power over her. She didn't want to catch herself looking into them for too long.

"Who are you?" Laura asked. He was beautiful - a fallen angel, if she didn't know better. But of course, there were no such things as angels.

"It doesn't matter," he replied simply, "But I have found out that you and I have a similar purpose. We seem to both want the same thing."

Laura furrowed her brow; "I don't follow..." she started.

"We want to get rid of someone who is in our way," he said.

Laura shook her head, allowing a small laugh, "The person I want to get rid of stands between me and someone else. She's rather irritating, actually, with her whole _goody-goody sweetness and light_ routine, "

"I believe we are speaking of the same person then," he stepped forward, "Now I understand your morbid appetite for the man she is keeping you from, but do you really want to kill him after all is said and done?" he asked.

Laura raised an eyebrow, "Are you offering me a reason _not_ to?" she asked, "He's the reason I've become what I am! He was the one-"

"…who sent you running into traffic. But was that, in the end, so bad?" the man asked calmly, then continued before she could respond, "Don't you feel more alive _now _then you did before?" he met her stare, "Is what you've turned into really so horrible?" Laura found it difficult to find her voice as the man reached out and traced his fingers over her face, "Tell me the truth now, _Lovely Laura,_" he spoke, "Do you regret it?"

"I..." she began, "I... suppose... it... it isn't... _so_... unbearable..." his eyes were drawing her in. Pulling out the thoughts she had often contemplated but pushed away.

"Don't you rather _like_ what you've become?" he purred hypnotically.

Laura thought about the question, then nodded slowly in agreement, "Yes... I... I _do_..."

"Then why would you punish him for it... when you can make him just like you," The man explained softly, "I am quite sure he could tend to all your _needs_... whatever they may be..."

Laura's eyes widened at the thought, "Have him at my beck and call?" she asked.

The man nodded, then brought his lips to her ear, his voice a promising whisper, "I guarantee that you would find him rather useful,"

Laura's eyes closed, speaking softly as the man's graceful fingers grasped her chin, "I would never be strong enough to control him," she protested weakly, "Even now he finds it so easy to resist me..."

"It is not _you_ who would control him, my dear," the man answered as he tilted her face up to his, "But if you assist me, then I promise you won't be disappointed with what I give you in return. Or rather..." a pause, "What I let _him_ give you in return,"

Laura's eyes flew open as she felt the man's hold on her mind slowly disappear, "It seems... agreeable..."

The man smiled a perfect smile, "Good then," he replied, "I should tell you that I am currently attempting to rid him of the girl. I have recently encouraged the son of a very prominent family to win her heart and take her away. Far less messy than what I had planned originally,"

Laura studied the man before her, "What is your interest in all this?" She asked.

His smile then turned into a scowl, "The girl makes him _weak_. And I cannot have him _weak_," he replied coldly, "Just know that it would be of great benefit to you if you help me... _entice_ him, so to speak. As you know, he is currently under the wrong influence at the moment," the man then sighed, "Though I suppose that is my fault for not keeping a closer eye on him..."

Laura's curiosity was raised, "You talk as if you've known him a long time," she began, "But you don't look much older than him,"

The man laughed a musical, almost angelic laugh, "Oh, dear Miss Ashton. I am far older then even _you_ can imagine..."

* * *

**Graveyard**

Christine knelt before the small tombstone that bore her father's name. She placed a small bouquet of flowers beside it, and smiled slightly, "Hi, daddy. It's me again," She bit her lip, "I need your help, daddy. See, I have this new friend, and I'm worried about him-" she stopped. What was she doing? Asking her father to help her protect Erik? She didn't even want to think of what would happen if Laura got her hands on him. "Sorry, daddy... I shouldn't trouble you up there," she glanced at the darkened sky, "I love you, and I miss you very much," she closed her eyes. _I'm so lonely, daddy..._ she thought silently as warm tears slowly started to trickle down her face, freezing in the cold wind.

Christine suddenly felt someone watching her, and slowly stood up, looking around. It was dark, the long shadows providing the perfect place to hide. She silently cursed her stupidity. After what she knew, what she had learned, why had she come to a _graveyard _at _night_?

She glanced to the left, and gasped when she saw a shadow move. "H-hello?" she called out nervously, "Is someone there?"

The shadow was still for a moment, then spoke, "Would it bother you if there was?"

Christine felt relief wash over her upon hearing a voice she had grown rather fond of, "Not as long as it's you. I was just getting a little nervous, that's all," she answered, "Can I see you?" It took a few moments, but Erik finally emerged from the darkness and stood before her. She took in his disheveled appearance, stake in hand, and immediately understood what he had been doing, "Busy night?" she asked. He simply shrugged. "Walk with me?" Christine asked, reaching out for him.

Erik seemed hesitant for a moment, his eyes falling to her tiny hand, "I'm not your boyfriend, Christine,"

"Neither is Meg, and I hold HER hand sometimes too. Besides," she pouted, "Raoul doesn't go for the hand-holding thing," Erik glanced back at her, then shook his head, trying to push away the emotions that tormented him every time he was near her, "Are you ok, Erik?"

Erik could not met her eyes, "I'm fine," he replied quietly. She nodded, and walked on. She was no more then a few steps ahead before Erik grasped her wrist and gently tugged her back to face him. He reached out and carefully tilted her chin up, allowing him a better look at her face, "You were crying," he spoke softly, wiping the stains away with his gloved fingers.

Christine closed her eyes for a moment, feeling disappointed when he finally brought his arms back to his side. "Thank you," she smiled, then held her hand out for his once more. He reluctantly took it this time, but said nothing else as the two made their way back to campus.

* * *

**Laramie Drive**

"She's leaving the house now," the Hunters Guild's number one security officer whispered into his cell phone, "I do not know why she was visiting the _Leader_," he spoke, using the name reserved for the one the Guild knew resided in the house on Laramie Drive, "But I believe this may go beyond the grudge she has with Erik,"

The former Police Detective had been spying on Laura Ashton for several weeks now, ever since news of her contact with the Guild's best Hunter had been brought to his attention by one Antoinette Giry. They could not have Erik compromised in such a way. For while the Guild's main purpose was to protect _society_ from creatures like Laura, it was _Security's _purpose to protect their Hunters from those that would conspire against them on a personal level. Hunters made many enemies in their line of work.

In a fight, the man knew Erik was quite capable of taking care of himself, but the art of undercover investigation was perhaps a little outside the boy's area of expertise. Yes, Erik was quite adept at sneaking around and not being seen, but the masked man had very little patience for remaining stock still to stakeout an enemy and expose their plans. Such things fell to the man who was now watching the inhumanly pale Laura Ashton leave the large reclusive mansion before him.

Like all good investigators, he knew what lay beyond those walls - the very creatures the Guild was created to fight. Time and again, it had been raided. Time and again, Hunters had been killed in the attempt. Time and again, the monsters' _Leader_ eluded them. In fact, a few in the Guild were now questioning if a leader existed to begin with. This mysterious, all-powerful creature had never been seen, and always seemed to be gone when the Hunters would come.

If he _did_ exist, if Laura Ashton was meeting with him, and if such a meeting involved Erik's name, then plans needed to be put into effect before it was too late. For if someone as ultimately dangerous as the creature who was rumoured to own this mansion was taking an interest in Erik, then things would go from bad to worse in a hurry.

* * *

**Ravelle College Campus**

"Almost home," Christine began as she saw the noisy Alpha Gamma Beta house looming before her. Raoul had mentioned earlier that he had been invited to a party by the new friends he had made at the Halloween Masquerade. He had asked her to come along, but she had turned him down, wanting to visit her father. Warming her icy fingers with her breath, Christine found herself absently wondering if Raoul was still in there. She would have liked to see him before she turned in for the night.

"Did you forget your gloves?" Erik asked, snapping the girl out of her thoughts. She glanced up at him, then nodded silently in response. Erik debated a moment before boldly coming to a decision - He tugged off his gloves and enclosed Christine's fingers in his own.

The girl was unable to speak for a moment, finding she liked the contact a little too much - so soft and warm as he gently rubbed the tops of her hands with his thumb. She met his amber eyes ... and saw the saddest longing in them. Hidden in those golden depths was an emotion she was unfamiliar with. Something she had never seen in anyone else's eyes.

"What is going on here?" A voice interrupted.

Christine eagerly turned around to see a blond-haired fresh-faced man standing only a few feet away. "Raoul!" The girl beamed as she ran up to the new arrival and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him affectionately as if she hadn't seen him in a year. "Erik was just walking me back from the graveyard! How was your party?"

Seeing the sight before him, Erik felt his temper suddenly rise. He shouldn't have been angry at Christine's behaviour. It was perfectly normal, after all. But seeing her with this boy just made his blood boil. He tore his eyes away from the happy couple, and spoke, "I see my presence is unwanted." His tone was one of suppressed anger. How easily the girl forgot he was standing there. Erik turned to go, but Raoul's voice stopped him cold.

"Before you go, why don't you show us what you're _hiding_ first,"

Erik's jaw clenched, his hands squeezing into fists. He closed his eyes a moment, attempting to calm himself, and turned back to face the younger man, "Hiding?" his voice grew icy, "Paranoid, are we?" he then offered a cold smirk, "Here…" he held his arms out to his side, voice sarcastic, "You can frisk me… "

"I'd rather see your _face_," Raoul snapped, "I'd like to know what someone like _you_ looks like!"

_"RAOUL!"_ Christine gasped.

"Someone like me?" Erik repeated. He was trying to control his anger, but there was only so much a man could do in such a position, "There is a name for _someone like me_, you know. I believe _freak _was the term you were looking for,"

"Erik!" Christine's eyes went wide, not liking that he referred to himself in such a way.

"Oh now, don't be so shocked by my choice of words, Christine," Erik began, "You've seen it yourself,"

Raoul turned to Christine, disbelief on his face, "You've seen him? Why did you tell me you _hadn't_?"

The masked man let out a harsh cold laugh, "The sweet child was probably trying to protect me... but she knows that you have a reason to be concerned," he glanced at Christine, "I saw the fear in your eyes that night, though now you do an admirable job of hiding it,"

"What is he talking about, Christine?" Raoul asked.

"Oh, it's far too long a story to go into right now," Erik said as he turned back to the young man before him, "But if you would really like to know what lay beyond this mask ... " he held a hand out as if waiting for Raoul to place something in it, "...you have to be willing to pay." Erik smiled coldly. "It rivals any nickel and dime _freak show_ you may have seen as a child, I promise you."

Raoul narrowed his eyes and put a protective arm around Christine, backing a few feet away from the masked man, "You're crazy! And to think you've been spending so much time with Christine! God knows what you could have done to her!"

"Raoul, please!" Christine protested, "Just leave him alone!"

Raoul turned to her, "Why are you protecting him? The man is nuts, Christine! He's a lonely eccentric man who hides behind a mask… and he seems to be paying way too much attention to you," he let go of Christine a moment, then turned back to Erik, his intent obvious, "You call yourself a freak," Raoul began, "So let's see what a freak looks like,"

"Tsk tsk. Not without payment," Erik insisted coldly, "People like me have to make a living somehow,"

"I apologize for this, Chrissy," Raoul spoke, but before Christine could ask what he was apologizing for, Raoul sent the girl crashing into Erik, distracting the taller man long enough to come up behind him and rip the leather from his face.

Erik froze as he felt a rush of cold air on his suddenly exposed skin, his arms still supporting the girl who had been shoved unceremoniously towards him. He carefully righted Christine and turned towards the young man with a dangerous, silent fury. For all Raoul's earlier bravado, the look on the boy's face was now sheer terror. Erik caught Raoul's eyes and saw the fear, the repulsion, the utter disbelief, "Is it everything you imagined, boy?" he hissed, "Or is this something you've only seen in your _nightmares_? I didn't disappoint, did I? Though I'm rather angered that you did not pay first..."

"What the hell are you...!" was all Raoul could gasp out before Erik's fist slammed hard into Raoul's temple, sending the boy crashing to the ground unconscious. Erik bent down and yanked the mask from Raoul's unmoving hands, placing it calmly over his face once again.

"I'm so sorry, Erik..." Christine spoke as she quickly knelt beside her fallen boyfriend and tended to him, "I had no idea he... he would" her voice caught as Erik focused his attention on her, unhidden rage in his amber eyes. Christine was quite sure her heart skipped a beat.

"I could have _killed_ him for shoving you!" He hissed. Christine heard the strain in his voice, saw how he was attempting to control his anger. She nodded nervously, frightened that Erik had been very capable of doing just that.

"I've never seen him behave like that before," she said as her fingers gently touched the bruise forming beside Raoul's left eye, "I... I should get him inside... it's cold out here..." she hung her head, "Erik... I never meant-" Christine stopped when she looked up...

Erik had once again disappeared.

* * *

**East 56 and Randal Ave. - 10 minutes later**

Erik was in a rather horrible temper as he walked along the empty sidewalks, the orange street lamps gleaming off the freshly fallen snow. How dare that boy touch his mask? How dare he even lay his hands on him? Raoul was lucky the only witness to his act was Christine, as the girl had seen Erik's face already. If there had been other witnesses, however, the boy would not have gotten away with only a black eye. He would, no doubt, have several broken bones... and perhaps a few rope burns around his neck.

Erik frowned as he heard music from a nearby store window - Holiday music. How he hated it, with its happiness and joy and celebration. It only served to remind him that he had nothing to be happy, joyful, or celebratory about.

Tired of being blinded by the bright coloured lights - as was always the garish custom this time of year - Erik ducked into a shadowed alleyway, walking between and behind the apartment buildings and stores. His ears were sharp, as usual, always listening for any strange noises coming from the darkness. Of course, he sensed a few of them nearby, but that was no matter. He was waiting for them to make their presence known to him. And how he hoped they would. He was in need of some healthy violence to release him from his foul mood.

He smirked ever so slightly as he heard the sound of icy snow being crunched beneath heavy feet. Someone was behind him. No. Not just _one_. In fact, not just _two_. He sensed _three_ of them.

Erik continued his walk, pretending to be oblivious to the ones that snuck closer. His hand slowly reached into the pocket of his duster and grasped the sharpened piece of wood that resided there.

Finally, one of them leapt out at him, attacking from behind and sending him tumbling to the cold wet ground. His attacker attempted to pin him down, but Erik quickly rolled himself over as he whipped his weapon out and turned his assailant to dust.

Erik flipped back up to his feet, and spun in the direction of the other two, holding his stake high, "Come on, now," he taunted, "Let's see which one of you will go down in history as ending the life of the Guild's top Hunter!"

They both rushed towards him at the same time... and quickly turned to dust - one after the other - before they could reach him.

"Really, Erik. I thought you'd be above taunting the animals by now," a voice spoke up.

The masked man spun around to see a dark man standing before him, brandishing a freshly discharged crossbow. Erik frowned, "Now you've gone and ruined all my fun!"

"Oh, tut tut!" the ex-police officer replied as he lowered his weapon, "I find it rather disturbing that you _enjoy_ it so much,"

"I am in a very bad mood at the moment!" Erik muttered, arms crossed angrily, "You should have let _me_ kill them,"

The older man raised an eyebrow, "And when are you NOT in a bad mood?" he asked.

Erik was about to reply 'never'… but realized that was not entirely true as of late. In fact, there was one person who managed to put him in a good mood just by her mere presence - although she was, no doubt, currently busy coddling her pretty rich boyfriend right about now. "Weren't you supposed to be in the Middle East?" Erik asked instead, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

The man shrugged, "I was, but my business there is done. The Guild called me back - to clean up your mess, of course!"

"And what mess have I supposedly left?" Erik demanded.

"Laura Ashton," he answered, "I've been asked to keep a close watch on her, since it appears she has some rather personal business with you,"

"I don't need your protection, Nadir!" Erik snapped, using the man's name for the first time since he had arrived.

The security officer laughed, "I have known you since you were 15, Erik. I trained you well and am quite aware that you need _no one's_ protection. However... " he stressed, "You are not a detective. _I_ am. Or... was... at one point. And therefore, it is my duty to make sure that the female does not ensnare you in some sort of trap that you cannot get out of,"

"I can get out of her traps quite fine," he replied.

Nadir raised an eyebrow, "Really?" he asked, "Even if she was visiting the house on Laramie Drive?"

Erik was quite aware of 66 Laramie Drive and who was rumoured to reside there. "Well, I suppose I should be flattered that such an important creature has taken an interest in me,"

"You should be _concerned_, not _flattered_, Erik!" Nadir scolded.

"Oh, but I have the great Detective Khan here to save me," Erik replied, "So why worry?"

Nadir let out a long sigh, "I don't understand why I even bother with you anymore,"

"Because I bring laughter and light into your life," Erik answered sarcastically.

Nadir chuckled at that, "Ahhh... of course! How could I have forgotten?" he then grew serious, studying the younger man before him, "Should I ask why you are in such a bad mood?"

"No," he answered. "It's far too detailed to talk about out here. It's beginning to snow," he raised his head to the night sky to emphasize his point, allowing the soft white flakes to land on his hard black mask, "Perhaps I will grace you with my presence at your apartment tomorrow. You can make us some tea and I will tell you about the latest complication in my life," he looked back at Nadir, "Her name is Christine,"

Nadir grew interested, "A lady then? It is no wonder you're in such a foul temper," he replied, "And by the way, Erik, a gentleman does not invite _himself_ over to another's apartment," Nadir shrugged, "But either way, I will be expecting your company. Bring your own tea, though. I only have coffee,"

Erik nodded in acknowledgement, "Very well. I will see you then, Nadir,"

The younger man then spun around and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Nadir staring at an empty alley. _Christine, hmm?_ The former police Detective thought to himself, _Oh, this should be very interesting indeed..._

* * *

**Christine's dorm room - 20 minutes later**

Raoul awoke with a moan, his hand immediately going to the ice pack Christine was pressing against his temple, "What happened?" he asked as he noticed he was currently lying on Christine's bed.

"You did something you shouldn't have," Christine replied.

He furrowed his brow, "And what, exactly, did I do?"

"You pissed Erik off," she replied, "I told you he's sensitive about the mask!"

Raoul narrowed his eyes, "Yes... and you _also_ told me you had never seen his face," Christine glanced away, letting go of the ice pack and leaving Raoul to hold it on his own, "Why did you lie about it!"

"Because if I had told you, you'd want to know details," she replied as she turned back to him, "And the details weren't mine to give!" She shook her head, "Let it go, Raoul,"

Raoul let out a harsh laugh, "Let it go!" he repeated, "I thought he was just WEIRD! I had no idea he was a _freak _as well," he replied.

"Don't talk about him that way!" she snapped.

"I'll talk about him any way I please! Do you honestly think I'll let you _near_ him again? Near _that_? Do you have any idea how desperate he must be for a woman? Who knows what he'd do to you! First, he gains your trust, _then_ he'll try to-"

"Stop it!" Christine interrupted angrily, "You have no idea, do you?" she asked, "You have no idea how to use something other than your looks to win people over!"

"Really?" Raoul frowned, "And has _he _won _you_ over?" he asked, "Is that why you're still _denying _me?"

Christine's eyes went wide, "How dare you!" she jumped to her feet, "Is _that _what this is about? Is that all you ever wanted from me?" she shook her head, "And to think, I thought you cared about me. I guess I was wrong. Again."

Raoul took a deep breath, his voice quieter when he spoke again, "I'm sorry..." he began, "Christine, I'm so sorry... I didn't mean it. It's just... you have no idea what you make me feel..." he stopped and buried his head in his hands, "Accuse me of being a spoiled rich boy, accuse me of being a jerk. But _don't_ accuse me of not caring about you," he then raised his head, his face growing serious, "Have you ever considered moving out of residence?" he asked. "Maybe coming to live with _me_?"

Christine stared at him, dumbfounded, "Raoul, I-" she looked away, "I wouldn't feel right imposing, Raoul,"

"It would be no imposition, Christine," a pause, "... if we were engaged,"

"_Engaged_?" Christine sputtered, "Where did THIS suddenly come from?"

"Listen, I know we're young," Raoul seemed heedless of Christine's objection as he stood up and put his arms around her, "But we don't have to marry right away. A nice long engagement would be fine. We can take our time."

She opened her mouth to protest once again, but Raoul quickly silenced her with a kiss. Christine glanced up to see a flash of black material disappearing past the grate above her bed, and immediately broke the kiss.

"Raoul," she began firmly, "We really need to talk…"

* * *

**Erik's Room - 10 minutes later**

Erik sat against the wall, his hand absently stroking Isis and her new kittens. He stared at the mess before him - papers were scattered, a lamp was broken, his bed sheets were practically ripped apart, and a fist-sized hole in the wall loomed above him, leaving his knuckles still throbbing from the impact.

Christine was not only leaving... but she was planning to marry that _boy_.

_A nice long engagement would be fine. We can take our time…_

Erik could not stand to hear the rest of the conversation. He could not stand to listen to the two plan their happy little wedding.

True, Christine would still be on campus to take her classes, but he was quite sure their lessons were over. If she moved off-campus, she wouldn't be able to sneak out to the Arts building. Not only that, but her lover would never let Christine near him again. Not after seeing his face.  
_  
I thought he was just WEIRD! I had no idea he was a **freak** as well_...

Erik's body tensed, his thoughts growing dark - until he felt something soft nudge his hand. He looked down to see Isis staring up at him. He had stopped petting her, "At least _you're_ still here," he said, then gently scratched behind the feline's ears.

He would still have to watch Christine, of course. Make sure she was safe. But talking to her... singing with her... That would be gone. He would have lost his precious student.

No. She was _more _then that...

Erik slowly stood up and walked to his mirror. He tugged the dust cover off, removing his mask as he stared at his reflection. She would never see him as anything but a tutor and acquaintance. And why should she? She wanted to marry her Prince Charming. Rich and handsome. And while Erik's architectural designs had made him the former, he was certainly not the latter.

_The powers that be must be laughing at their great joke, _he thought. _Bring light into my life only to take it away. Make me **need **her, **care **for her, then remind me that she will **never **feel the same._ _Lay bare my vulnerability, only to throw it back in my face!_

No _mother_ wanted him as a _son_... and no _woman _would want him as a _man_...

Perhaps he would just have to accept the fact that he was meant to be alone.

Forever.

**END OF EPISODE NINE**


	10. Episode 10: The Perfect Weapon

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir!**_

* * *

**  
Erik: The Vampire Hunter**

**Episode 10: The Perfect Weapon**

By: Elektra

**Home of Jason and Jessica Petty**

31-year-old Jacob Petty looked at the dinner his mother placed before him. Meatloaf again. He was annoyed with meatloaf.

Lately he seemed to be getting annoyed with several things. He blamed it on the fact he was in the middle of a messy divorce and was in danger of having his children taken away. As it was, he had been kicked out of his own home and had been forced to move back in with his parents.

Mrs. Petty smiled at her son as she put a plate down before her husband, "I made apple pie for dessert,"

"Just give me the pie," Jacob answered.

Mr. Petty shook his head in dismay at his son's attitude, then brought a forkful to his mouth, and began chewing slowly. He suddenly stopped, his eyes going wide.

"Honey?" Mrs. Petty began, "Honey... are you ok?" she began to grow frantic as her husband's face grew red. He put a hand to his throat, knocking his chair back as he stood up. "Jason!" Mrs. Petty cried out, "Help me, Jacob! Help me!" she begged her son.

Jacob simply sat there, unemotional as he watched the scene before him. It was as if something had taken over his mind and body. He had been thinking of this very scene in his mind... and here it was. Jacob was filled with such a rush of power that he didn't even notice the 'thump' of a body falling to the floor…

* * *

**Arts Building**

Christine was not having a good night. She was currently practicing for her finals... only to find she could do nothing right by Erik. Every note, every stanza was wrong. Not enough of one thing, or too much of something else. He was being overly harsh, she thought. Instead of helping her correct her mistakes, he was only berating her for them.

Erik frowned at her as she finished hitting a particularly high note, "Are you attempting to call dogs? Is that even a note on the traditional scale, or did you make that up?"

Christine blinked at that, then pursed her lips, hands on her hips. She was getting rather fed up with his attitude tonight, "You know, if you would actually _teach _me how to reach that note instead of _yelling_ at me, maybe I might improve!"

"Or maybe you're just hopeless!" he snapped. "But then, what else would I expect from a little girl like you? I should have known that you weren't mature enough to learn this song!"

"I AM mature… but I've never even HEARD that song before!" she indicated the paper at the piano, "I don't even know who WROTE it!"

"_I_ did!" he spat, "For YOU!"

Christine's eyes went wide, "For… _me_…?" she repeated.

"Are you _deaf _now too?" he asked coldly, then turned his back on her, "I wrote this the night you asked me to help you with your finals! I thought perhaps it might assist you in getting the grade you needed. Apparently my efforts were in vain…" he hissed.

Christine's momentary surprise quickly turned to annoyance, "Why are you being so bitchy tonight?" she demanded.

He spun around to face her, slowly stalking towards the petite girl, golden eyes aflame, "_Bitchy_?" he growled, "Did you just call me _bitchy_?" he narrowed his eyes as he came closer and closer, "Any man who dared call me that would be DEAD at my feet! How _dare_ you!" Christine began to back away, growing a little frightened at his menacing tone and stature.

"Erik…" she began shakily, but it was to no avail, for she soon found herself backed up against the wall of the music room, his 6'6" towering over her own 5'2".

"Don't _Erik_ me!" he snapped.

"What is _wrong _with you tonight?" she demanded to know.

"Why should you care?" he asked, "It's not as if you'll be around me much longer,"

"_Excuse me_?"

"Oh spare me the innocent routine, Christine! I know you plan to move in with your lover. Our acquaintance will be coming to an end." He scowled. "You've gotten everything you wanted,"

"And since _when _did you become an expert on what I want?" she shot back. _Does he have to stand so close to me?  
_  
He let out a harsh laugh. "It doesn't take a genius to see that any lovely young girl dreams of being carried off by a handsome prince! I hope his money keeps you warm at night! I doubt HE'D be able to!" he sneered, "Do you have ANY idea what you just did to your career? You handed it to that boy on a silver platter!"

"You don't understand-" Christine began.

"Oh don't I?" He slammed his hands against the wall, blocking Christine in on both sides, "YOU are the one who doesn't understand! Will that boy allow you to continue our lessons? No! Would he allow you anywhere NEAR me? NO!"

"Stop YELLING at me!" Christine cried out.

"I will yell at you because you need to be yelled at!" he growled. "Why did you bother coming here tonight if you're only going to leave m- " He stopped briefly, then continued, "… leave your _career _behind to RUN off with some pretty RICH boy?" He punctuated his words by slamming the flat of his right fist against the wall beside her, his voice strained with an emotion that had nothing to do with his belief that Christine was throwing her future away. Christine attempted to turn from him, but Erik grasped her chin with strong fingers and forced her to look back up, "Answer me!" he insisted.

She tried to avert her gaze from those pools of amber fire, her eyes dropping to Erik's mouth instead. She could see a flash of perfect white beneath those slightly parted lips…

Christine blushed and closed her eyes… but that only ended up enhancing the earthy scent of candle smoke and freshly cut wood that surrounded her as Erik stood not more then two inches away.

"And here I thought you were supposed to be a genius!" she replied angrily, not liking the odd feelings he was stirring up. Her hands shot out in front of her, pressing against his chest in an attempt to push him away… but it was to no avail. Why would she have thought differently? She could _feel _his strength beneath her fingers. Fighting the undead every night seemed to agree with him…

Erik was struck silent as he glanced down at her tiny hands, unable to ignore the warmth of her touch, the lovely scent of her hair, the flush on her beautiful face… and the feel of her breath against his chin as he realized how very close he had lowered his face to hers. If he leaned down only three inches more…

Erik shoved the unwanted thought from his mind as he quickly stumbled away from her, "Christine…" he gasped hoarsely.

She simply stared at him, her blue eyes so deep he was sure he'd drown, "Obviously you only eavesdropped on _part_ of my conversation with Raoul." She began, "So let me inform you – _oh great genius who thinks he knows my heart's desire _- of the rest of it!"

She stepped towards him as she spoke, forcing Erik to back away - she was getting a little too close for comfort. "I told Raoul it was too soon to think of moving in and marrying him. I still had my schooling, and yes, Erik… our lessons," she was closer now, "He didn't take my refusal well! He said he'd give me some time to think about it - to think about what it would be like without him."

She frowned angrily. "He's so used to getting what he wants that when he _doesn't_ get it, he acts like a spoiled child!" Christine stood only inches away, the piano preventing Erik from moving back any further, "God, males-" she poked an angry finger into Erik's chest once, "are so-" twice, "_infuriating_!" three times.

"And _females…_" Erik grasped both of Christine's wrists to prevent a fourth poke, "Arouse us to the point of insanity!"

Christine opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again, finding herself flushing unexplainably at his words. All the time she had spent with Erik, how could she have forgotten? As mysterious, reclusive and unearthly as he seemed, Erik was still a _man_. A man who reacted to a woman as _any _man would. And now, standing this close to him, she found herself feeling both frightened and excited by this new revelation.

Erik saw the look in her eyes, and realized the way in which she had taken his last words. He quickly dropped his hands to his side, breaking all contact, "Now that is settled…" he began quickly, "I have things to attend too." He immediately headed to the window.

"Wait, Erik! Where are you going?" Christine asked.

"Tonight's lesson is over," he said with finality.

"BUT…" she started, but he slipped through the window and was gone without another word.

Christine could only stare at where he had been, and wonder upon the sudden longing she felt at his disappearance.

* * *

**Home of Jason and Jessica Petty - the next day **

Three men stood before Jacob, trying to bring him back to himself. They offered him a way to control the power that had taken over him. But he refused. What did they know about power? They obviously had so very little themselves. He listened to their desperate words, a small smirk on his lips. They were chanting something from the books they held in their hands.

Jacob glanced at his own book. It was sprawled on the floor, several feet away. He had taken to reading that book day and night. It had shown him a way to channel his anger. His wife and best friend were now paying dearly for they way they had carried on behind his back. He remembered his wife begging for forgiveness as he read some odd words from that wonderful book. He remembered the look on her face as he punished her lover – the man turning blue right before her eyes. He had used the book so often that he no longer needed to look at it to make his fondest wishes come true.

Now these men before him were trying to control him. Jacob wanted to laugh. Nothing could control him. He was beyond them. He was beyond _anything._

He was even beyond feeling sorrow for the dead woman at his feet. The woman he had once called "Mother." She had tried to control him too. She was the one who had called these men before him. They were going to help him, she had said. Didn't the woman understand that he didn't want their help? He didn't NEED their help? Foolish woman. Did she not know that her attempts to save him only made him angrier?

She had screamed quite a lot before she died, even through the blood bubbling out of her mouth. A mere thought from him had crushed her insides. He would like to see the look on the medical examiner's face when they finally performed the autopsy.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he realized the three men before him were still trying their damnedest to bring him under control again. He was growing increasingly annoyed. It was time to rid himself of his unpleasant company. He turned his attention to the first man - wouldn't it be nice if his heart stopped beating? No sooner had he thought it, then the man began to clutch at his chest, dropping the book to the ground. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath. The other two glanced at the third man briefly, but then turned back to their infernal books, still chanting desperately. A shame, really, as it was a lovely sight.

Jacob laughed. He knew they would not kill him in return, for they were the _heroes_. They would rather save him then kill him.

Jacob looked at the dead man's body. One down, two more to go.

He wondered how creative he could be...

* * *

**Dean Giry's Office - that night **

"Tell me about this man," Erik began as he leaned against Giry's desk, "What is the situation?"

"Jacob Petty decided to dabble in the occult in an attempt to win his wife back from his best friend. It backfired. Instead of him controlling the power, it began to control _him_." Giry explained.

Erik met Giry's eyes, "If you are asking me to deal with this man, that can only mean one thing, Antoinette..."

Giry turned away from him, "Our people were unsuccessful in containing Petty's power. Three of them were killed,"

Erik nodded slowly, "And so I am your last resort," Erik knew what was expected of him. He was only called upon in matters such as this when a permanent solution was needed.

"Yes, Erik," she handed him a folder, "In here you will find the man's address and a brief description of what he can do. He has not left his parents' home, so it should not be too difficult to-"

"No," Erik interrupted, tossing the folder back on Giry's desk, "Find another,"

Giry looked at him, her eyes unable to hide her surprise. He had never refused a _special_ assignment before, "Erik?"

Erik glanced down at his hands, and a trick of his imagination showed him the tinge of red that could never be washed away, "I do not want to do this any more, Antoinette." His voice was quiet, resigned.

Giry frowned, "May I ask _why_?" She didn't need to ask, though. One look in Erik's eyes told her, "Is it because of _her_?" Erik turned away from Giry, "Erik...!" Giry's voice was stern, "Tell me that girl has not taken control of your heart!"

"_Taken _it?" he laughed coldly, "No. For her to _take_ it would mean she wanted it in the first place." He paused, his voice soft when he next spoke. "But that did not stop me from losing it regardless,"

"I knew it!" Giry snapped, "I KNEW this would happen! I TOLD you to be careful!"

Erik whirled on her, "You think I wanted this to happen?" he hissed, "You think it was my _intention _to suffer this way? To lose something and know that I will get nothing in return?" He threw his hands in the air. "Forgive me for being HUMAN!" He spat the last word angrily. "I would have much preferred to remain a _monster_. To remain cold and unfeeling! To lose myself to blissful darkness and continue to be the heartless assassin the Guild expects! It would have been far less painful!"

"You picked a wonderful time to have an attack of conscience, Erik." Giry frowned. "Three Hunters were killed! If you do not stop this man, who knows how many humans will die at his hands!"

Erik clenched his jaw. "And how many humans have died at _my_ hands?" he replied.

Giry was silent for a moment, then finally spoke. "The kills were justified,"

"If it's as simple as all that, then why can no other Hunters bring themselves to do it? It's _justified_, after all!" he sneered.

"I'll tell you why!" He continued, "Because they have someone to go back to at the end of the day. Husbands, wives, lovers. Children. And they could not stand to look at them after staining their hands with blood!" He glared at Giry. "Oh! But it's ok for _me _to do it! _I _don't mind! I have _no one _to face when all is said and done. I have no lover, no children! I am a recluse who lives in the shadows and hides his face from the world! _I _can shut off my emotions! _I_ can turn myself into a cold-hearted killer! Because I'm just the Guild's WEAPON, after all!"

He took a deep breath, his voice growing quieter, calmer. "And that was true for a long time, wasn't it, Antoinette? But... now... now I have a reason to care. A reason to _feel_." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "And as unrequited as it may be, it is still there. It is not something I can get rid of. Not something I can force myself to remain numb to,"

"Erik... please," Giry's voice was quiet. "If there were another way, you know we would take it. But there isn't. This man is dangerous. He not only killed his wife's lover, but his own parents as well! The Guild has tried to bring him under control, but they _can't_!"

Erik picked the folder up from the desk once more and studied it, "Do you know what it is like to look into their eyes before they die?" he asked, "To see their lost humanity return just before they breathe their last? To see the realization? The guilt? The sadness? To see them _finally _return to themselves, only to take it all away?"

He looked at Giry.

"_I_ do, Antoinette... and I remember each and every face," He closed his eyes a moment, then opened them again, "I suppose Jacob Petty's face will just be another to add to my memories,"

Without another word, Erik spun on his heel, and headed out of the office.

* * *

**Home of Jason and Jessica Petty - 2 hours later **

Erik took in the scene before him. The three Hunters and an older woman lay dead, their blood spattered upon the walls and floor. The bodies had begun to take on a rather unpleasant smell, yet the man who stood in the middle of it didn't seem to notice.

_Absolute power corrupts absolutely._

"So..." Jacob Petty began as he took in Erik's appearance. "Are you going to try and make me change my ways like the others did?" he taunted. "Forget it. I'm enjoying myself too much."

Erik said nothing.

"_They_..." Jacob indicated the dead Hunters, "tried to bring the old Jacob back. It didn't work." He then smirked. "Though if you want to play hero, go ahead. It'll be fun to kill you too."

Erik's mind slipped into the black abyss, that place where it was so very easy for his heart and soul to grow cold. It was this very ability that made him the Guild's perfect weapon. To do what no other Hunter could.

"The heroes are dead," Erik finally spoke, his voice frighteningly calm as he pulled a coiled length of rope out of the inner pocket of his duster. "I'm the _Executioner_,"

Jacob cocked his head, a small smile on his lips. "And you're going to _execute_ me then?" he asked. The man's smile faded. "You know I can kill you with a thought, right?" he asked, "It's how I got rid of the others."

"Try it," Erik replied. "You'll find I'm a lot more resistant to such things then they were."

"We'll see about that," Jacob replied, then focused his mind on Erik. The masked Hunter simply stood there staring at him. The man furrowed his brow, concentrating harder. Erik was unresponsive. Jacob began to grow concerned.

"Your tricks aren't working, are they?" Erik replied icily, "Too bad for you."

Jacob shook his head, "I don't understand."

"And you never will..." The man soon found the rope around his neck, the masked Hunter tugging tightly. "Don't worry, I will make this as painless as possible."

Jacob's eyes went wide as he realized death was near. "No... please..." he begged, tears slipping from his eyes, "What have I done?" he asked, "Mother?" he looked at the woman's body a few feet away, "Momma? I'm ... I'm so sorry..."

With his free hand, Erik calmly removed his mask, allowing the man to look death in the face... before one last hard yank of the rope snapped his neck in two.

* * *

**Erik's Room - later **

The darkness.

It was where he always retreated after his special assignments. The abyss would blissfully pull him under and keep him delightfully frozen until It thought he was ready to return to society once again. He wondered if one day It would consume him completely. He had sunk farther then usual this time. Not even the soft mewling in the corner of Erik's room could reach him. He vaguely recalled having pets of some sort...

Erik?"

_Where did that female voice come from? I should recognize it... _

Erik simply stayed where he was, staring at the darkness before him. He paid no attention to the rattle of the doorknob, or the squeaky hinges as the door opened.

"Erik? You ok?" The voice entered the room. Perhaps he should have locked the door. "Dean Giry told me you weren't feeling well." A form appeared before him, but his focus was on the wall, "She said you wanted to be left alone, so I won't stay long," she placed a paper bag down on his desk, "I brought you some chicken soup. It might make you feel better,"

He slowly turned away from the wall, shifting his eyes towards the female in front of him. Was she an angel? Looking at her in the glow of the single candle on his desk made it seem so. He simply stared at her detachedly, waiting for the lovely apparition to fade away and leave him to his darkness once more.

"Hey, there... you ok?" she stepped towards him. "You look out of it..."

His eyes closed as he felt warm gentle fingers press against his exposed face, barely recalling that he had taken his mask off when he had returned home, "You feel so cold!" the lovely angel gasped.

_Christine..._

Erik's eyes quickly flew open, "Christine!" he said aloud, lifting his head up to see Christine's sweet face hovering above him. He suddenly jumped to his feet, causing the girl to stumble back. The darkness was gone! Just like that. "How!" he gasped. It was this girl, he was quite sure of it. Her touch had managed to pull him out.

Christine furrowed her brow, "How _what_?" she asked.

Erik glanced around the room, his eyes falling to the bag on his desk, "Is that for me?"

"Yeah," she nervously bit her lip, "Um, you DO like chicken soup, right?" Erik noticed the mask sitting on the far side of the desk. He glanced back at Christine, who was patiently waiting for his answer. Why wasn't she reacting to his appearance? He walked past her and grabbed the mask, quickly sliding it on, "Are you sure you should be wearing that?" she asked, "If you're sick, having something smothering your face is probably going to make you feel worse."

"I thought I'd spare you the sight," he muttered. He did not want her to look at the Guild's Executioner right now.

Christine glanced at him for a moment, concerned with his odd behaviour, then shook her head as she reached into the paper bag, "Here," she held out a covered bowl and spoon. He simply nodded as he took it from her. The girl didn't need to know that his sickness had not been physical, "Can you eat with that on?" Christine asked, indicating the black leather.

"It's cut high enough above my mouth," he replied as he returned to sit on the bed.

Christine sat down beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, "It's ok, Erik," she said. "I won't mind if you want to take it off,"

"No, Christine... this is fine..." he swallowed a spoonful of soup to show that the mask was no hindrance, "I've done it many times."

She nodded, then folded her hands neatly in her lap, suddenly finding them fascinating. "You don't ..." she began quietly, "... you don't have to wear it in front of me, you know... if you'd rather not," she glanced up at him, "I think I've gotten used to it. Your face, I mean..."

Erik's spoon froze midway between his mouth and bowl, "Used to it?" he repeated, then looked away, his voice growing cold, "My own _mother _couldn't get used to it."

"I'm not your _mother_, Erik..." Christine replied.

He met her eyes for a moment, "No... no I don't suppose you are..." he said, then turned back to his soup, leaving the mask in place.

Sometimes, more was said with silence then with words...

**END OF EPISODE TEN**


	11. Episode 11: Help Unwanted

**A/N: As always, a Super-Special thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir. Especially for the dance/lift scenes in this episode!**

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter**

**Episode 11: Help Unwanted**

By: Elektra

**De Chagny Residence**

"I am rather disappointed in you," The man known as _Leader_ began as he stood in Phillip's study, "Your brother was supposed to take that girl off my hands. It seems, however, that he's frightened her away with his sudden declarations of marriage. Such a thing must be done carefully, which it something your brother does not seem to understand," The taller man frowned. "This upsets me Philip."

Philip swallowed nervously. "I apologize for my brother's boldness, sir. He's young and impetuous. I think, perhaps, he is worried about the intentions of the girl's tutor. My brother says he is quite hideous and not someone he wants to leave Christine in the care of." Philip paused for a moment, then the realization hit him. "It is the TUTOR you have an interest in, isn't it? The girl is inconsequential!"

"Ah, you finally figured it out," Leader replied. "Yes, it is HIM that has peaked my interest. And for such a thing to work to my favour, your brother needs to grovel and beg the girl for forgiveness. To get her AWAY from HIM,"

Philip furrowed his brow. "What, exactly, is your interest in him? I mean... if he prefers girls-"

"SILENCE," the Leader roared. "It is NOT that kind of INTEREST!" He then met Philip's eyes, his voice growing low, almost hypnotic, "You will NOT ask questions. You will simply do as I say..." Philip nodded dumbly, "You will convince your brother to grovel for the girl's forgiveness, and NOT frighten her away from him. He must be delicate with such things, you understand. I cannot accept any mistakes, Philip! NOW..." Leader broke his hold on the other man. "Do what you must."

"Yes sir..." Philip replied, and headed off to speak to his brother.

* * *

**Ravelle College - Auditorium**

Christine picked gingerly at her bra top, and then tried in vain to pull the boy shorts down. _This seemed a lot less revealing the day we tried them on._

With only two weeks until the show went up, Dean Giry had moved rehearsals on stage. Meg was in the corner with her leg straight up the wall, pulling herself into a vertical split. Everyone else was either fixing pointe shoe ribbons or removing articles of warm up clothing. Christine reluctantly pulled off her leg warmers and her shrug, and walked over to the rosin box.

Bobby Stevens appeared behind her and put his hand on her back. "You want to try the lift?"

"No, not really."

"You sure? It would be better to try it before the music is on and Dean Giry's watching."

Christine shrugged her shoulders and let Bobby lead her to the stage. He stepped away from her, and asked two other dancers to clear the space. "Ready whenever you are."

"Why don't we just mark it first, huh?'

"Okay."

Christine counted under her breath. _Step one, battement two, step three, four, run to him five six…_On seven, she stood right in front of Bobby, weight on her left foot. She kicked her right leg up on eight, and felt Bobby's hand go to that place on the inside of her thigh. _I bet HE's watching us walk through this._

Bobby was counting with her. "Eight, press one," He grunted as if she was heavy, and Christine hit his chest. "Hold two, legs around three, four, drop five… come on Chrissy, let's try it once. We start the run in five minutes."

Christine sighed and nodded. She ran on the right counts, felt Bobby grab her thigh and she jumped as he lifted, then tossed her into the air off of his hands. She felt him catch her and she wrapped her legs around him on three, then threw her head back on four…only to look up and see a shadow on the catwalk.

_Erik!_

Her legs went weak as she was instantly aware of Bobby between her thighs, and as Bobby released her to go into the back bend, Christine fell unceremoniously to the floor, head first.

"Christine!" Meg came running on stage. "Are you okay?"

Giry's cane came crashing down. "What happened?"

Bobby threw his hands up. "I don't know! She just…fell!"

Christine rubbed her head and neck as Meg helped her up. "Dean Giry, it was my fault. I lost my concentration. It won't happen again." _Erik is going to distract me to death_, she thought angrily.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes."

"Good. Let's run 'Meditations' first, since Kitty has to _leave early_." Giry shot a withering glare at the graduate student who had choreographed the piece.

They were nearing the section Christine suddenly dreaded. _Why do graduate students feel the need to push the envelope of indecency? _Meg was finishing her solo, easily managing the three pirouettes and landing without a sound. She slid into a split, rolled to stand up, and ran off stage left.

Christine gave one more futile tug on her costume, and let Bobby grab her hand. The stage went dark, and the four couples slipped out to get into position. Christine and Bobby were in the front, right corner. He lay down, and guided her down with him. When the lights came up, she squeezed her eyes shut as Bobby lifted his arm from behind her and drew his hand along her shoulder and side. _He's only doing what Kitty choreographed … although I think he's enjoying it a bit too much, the perv!_

Finally, she was able to sit up and began to move, trying to get lost in the movement. She and Bobby curled and uncurled in and out of turns and transitions, everything going well enough. They managed the press lift, the embarrassing embrace and drop just fine, with Christine landing gently on the floor.

Christine was perspiring heavily under the demands of the choreography and the pressure of her unseen audience. She ran to Bobby and leapt into his hands, ready to be thrown up into the air, but his grip faltered. She fell into his embrace, and his hands slipped up to her chest. _Bastard! He did that on purpose! _She pushed away from him angrily, trying to count and find her place. She was utterly panicked, flushed, and just downright annoyed.

Only seconds later, she stepped into arabesque, grasping Bobby's sweaty hand, feeling utterly off-balance. He pulled her into his arms, turning her and dropping her backwards. Christine snuck a glance up and saw movement. _Is Erik trying to make himself visible to me?_

Bobby set her upright _en pointe_, but Christine started to lose her balance. Reaching out to her, Bobby grabbed her around the hips, grazing her rear end. At this Christine lost her cool, and was more than happy to run off stage.

"What was that?" she hissed, careful to keep her voice low. But she didn't need to ask. Bobby was well known for purposely putting his hands in the wrong places and feigning innocence.

"What? I was trying to help," Bobby whispered with a smirk.

**"_Help like that may lead you to jail, BOY…or to HELL…whichever I chose for you..._**" A deep, dangerous voice echoed off the walls of the auditorium. Time seemed to freeze, as the students looked high and low for the source.

"It's the ghost! He's here!" A young dancer named Jammes gasped aloud. Christine and Meg exchanged glances, both surprised that Erik would make his presence so obvious.

Dean Giry, on the other hand, looked incredibly angry. "Rehearsal is over!" Giry declared, much to the chagrin of her students.

With an angry bang of her stick, Giry looked up at the catwalk where Erik was hiding, and left the auditorium. The ghost of Ravelle College would soon feel the wrath of an angry ballet mistress...

* * *

**Outside the De Chagny Residence – Dusk**

Nadir watched as Leader left the home of Philip De Chagny. He could call the Guild now, inform them where Leader was, but he was quite sure the man… or whatever he was… would manage to disappear before they arrived.

Of course, that was provided Nadir could even get to his phone on time. For he saw an odd red glow in the oncoming darkness. No. _Several_ odd red glows.

Which meant…_Well, this is an unfortunate turn of events,_ Nadir thought as he was soon surrounded by five creatures that meant him great harm...

* * *

**Pareau Women's Prison**

The 49-year-old woman was startled from her reading by a loud clanging. She quickly jumped up, her blond-gray hair dishevelled as she focused her dark blue eyes on the two prison guards banging their nightstick against the bars of her cell, "Prisoner 261, you have a visitor!"

She furrowed her brow. The only visitors she ever had were her lawyer, and a few former associates, "Who is it?" she asked.

The guards frowned, "I suppose you'll find out," said the dark haired one. She slid the door opened and her partner took their prisoner's arm, the two of them leading her to the visitor's area.

261 was startled when she saw the stern woman who waited behind the glass for her. The woman wore a black dress, her dark hair tied back in a long braid.

261 quickly picked up the prisoner's phone, her voice harsh when she spoke, "Who are you, and what do you want?" she demanded.

"My name is Antoinette Giry," the woman began into the visitor's phone, "And I am here to ask you about your son,"

* * *

**Ravelle College - Auditorium**

Christine walked into the large empty auditorium nervously. Everyone was gone, scared away by the Ghost after Dean Giry had effectively ended rehearsals two hours ago. She climbed up onto the stage to practice a few steps. It was so much larger then the rehearsal room. She wanted to make sure her pacing was right.

Christine turned around, and started, seeing a moving shadow in the wings, "Are you _hiding_?" She asked.

"Ghosts do not HIDE," came a deep voice in response.

"They do if they know Dean Giry is going to kill them for interrupting her rehearsal,"

"Antoinette does not scare me." A pause. "You have not seen her around, have you?"

"No. I saw her leaving campus a little while ago. I guess she has other business," Christine studied the shadows, "You really shouldn't have interrupted, you know,"

"Perhaps I should have let Bobby's hands continue to _slip _instead," he answered.

"Well... it IS a hard lift... but..." Christine was hesitant. "He was slipping a little TOO much,"

"_I_ could have lifted you without such problems."

Christine raised an eyebrow. "Really?" She asked. "I'd like to see you try."

Erik came out of the shadows and stood before her. "Very well..." he replied, then shrugged off his duster and tossed it aside.

Christine studied him a moment. Well, Bobby certainly had nothing on him. Erik had the build of a dancer, but with an added grace that was almost inhuman. Christine also couldn't help but notice that beneath his black tank top, he was inhumanly _pale _as well. She hadn't noticed it that night in his room since he had kept the place so dark, but here under the stage lights, she could see the faint traces of blue-black lines she thought were only regulated to his poor face actually seemed to cover his entire body. He looked like a beautiful white-marble statue.

"Christine?" Erik began, feeling a little uncomfortable at her sudden attention to his form, "Shall we do it?"

Christine's eyes went wide. "WHAT!" She gasped, then suddenly felt like a fool. "OH… the _lift_ you mean… right. Um…" she grew nervous. "How much experience have you had? Uh… _lifting ballerinas_ I mean!" she added quickly.

Erik shrugged absently. "I've been watching Giry's classes for 15 years now," he answered, then glanced back at her. "I will not drop you. I can promise you _that_ much, at least..."

Christine had a feeling she could take him at his word. "You should stand there." She pointed upstage. Erik walked back and stood when she had indicated. "And I start here."

"Very well."

"And then, I…uh…run at you."

"Yes. Hopefully with a modicum of grace," he replied dryly.

She laughed nervously. "That's the general idea." Erik nodded and waited silently. "So, I pique arabesque on one," she went through the motions, "then I run two, three..." She stood right in front of him. "On four, I plie, and you put your hands on my…" She reached out for his wrists, "Hips." Both held their breath, and it took Christine a moment to find her voice again, trying to ignore the warmth of his hands, "Uh… not my waist, or you'll hurt me. Your hands will slip into my ribs. Or you'll lose your grip on me, and, well, you saw rehearsal." He nodded. "On five, I jump, you lift and the idea is that you lift and push, so I catch a little air. Then, hands back to hips, but you twist me a little, and your left hand goes to my lower back, and lay me down on the floor. I can, uh, take it from there." She stepped away. "Should we mark it once?"

"Do you need to?" he asked.

"Uh, no?" she answered meekly.

"Then let's get on with it," Erik replied impatiently.

Christine went to stand on her mark. "Five, six, seven, eight." She piqued on one, and started towards Erik, who readied his hands. She was just was just with in his grasp when she stopped short, and wrung her hands, flustered. "Sorry, sorry! I get nervous…doing _all _lifts really, not just this one. It's scary just throwing yourself at someone."

"Indeed," he answered sardonically.

Christine shook her head, rolled her shoulders and pressed her feet onto and off of pointe. _Okay, I can do this. I can do this._

And so she began, ran to him, felt his hands connect with her hip, and before she could even react to that sensation, she plied on the count and he tossed her effortlessly into the air. So effortlessly that she went higher than normal, higher than ever really, and before she could help herself, she tensed and broke the position.

Erik must have sensed her fear, because he quickly grabbed for her hip and back, pulling her down to his chest. Her hands went to his shoulders, and the tips of her pointe shoes touched the stage. _This… is kind of … nice…_ Christine thought, feeling oddly safe in the circle of Erik's arms...

"That didn't go well." He spoke, unaware of her thoughts.

She blinked a moment, then spoke, "Yeah… it's… just that… I guess you're stronger than Bobby. I went pretty high. It scared me."

"Don't worry, Christine. I would have caught you. I will _always_ catch you," Erik replied, though she got the sense he was speaking about more then the lift. "Now shall we try again?" he asked.

There wasn't any room for opposition. She nodded nervously, then slowly pushed away from him and headed back to her earlier position. She took a deep breath, and ran at him once more. He tossed and caught her, his left hand slipping to her back. Before she knew it, her back was about one foot off the floor, and she was looking up at Erik's masked face. "Do I lower you to the ground?" he asked almost breathlessly.

_I don't mind if you hold me like this for a bit…_ Christine thought silently, then quickly shook the thought out of her head. "Y-yeah… lower me…" _No… please don't…_

Erik's cell phone suddenly rang, breaking the moment. He quickly lowered Christine to the floor, then reached to the belt clip and grabbed it, "Yes, what is it?" he answered grumpily. There was a momentary pause, and then "Nadir! Where the hell are you-Nadir? What is all that noise? Are you OK? Nadir? Dammit, old man!" he shouted into the phone. He swore under his breath as he disconnected and placed the handset back on the clip at his belt. He bolted from the auditorium, taking only a moment to grab his duster before he disappeared into the darkness of the wings.

Christine couldn't help but follow…

* * *

**Ravelle College – Outside the gates**

Christine finally caught up to Erik, and saw what had worried him so. The masked man and a much older man were surrounded by unfriendly company. They were obviously outnumbered.

Christine could only watch as Erik was besieged by three vampires at once. Despite that, he managed to use a mix of strength and quickness to hold the monsters at bay. Quickness the other man didn't possess.

Christine wanted to help. But how? An idea came to her. She quickly gathered her wits, took a deep breath, parted her lips… and sang.

Her voice rang clear through the night, and the creatures momentarily stilled, distracted by the strange sound emanating from the unseen girl in the darkness.

She raised her voice stronger, louder. The wordless harmonies echoed in the open space, allowing Erik and his friend the advantage. The older man shot his crossbow at two retreating vampires, easily turning them to dust.

Christine continued to sing. She saw the men work together to converge on the four remaining vampires. She heard two monsters scream their final screams, heard at least one run away.

Erik sensed Christine's presence the moment she had arrived. And now… he sensed her fear. Fear of seeing him harmed by his adversaries.

And then he sensed _it_. A vampire sneaking up behind him.

"ERIK!" Christine cried out as she ran into the foray before the masked man realized her intentions. Before he could take care of the vampire on his own. Before the girl thought about the consequences.

But then… Christine Daaé had always be driven by emotions, not logic…

She heard Erik shout out to her, but a hard fist from the vampire she had charged at left her head swimming. She lay on the ground, unable to make sense of anything for the moment. Especially not the vampire sliding over her, the feel of his hot breath against her neck, nor the stake that turned him to dust before he'd had a chance to dig his fangs into her soft flesh.

Her blurry eyes turned to see Erik standing a few feet away, his body still in the position of one who had just thrown a dart. The look in his eyes was that of pure animalistic rage… and frightening satisfaction.

Christine saw no more as darkness took over.

* * *

**Erik's room**

When Christine awoke, she noticed she was on Erik's bed, the masked man hovering over her with a cold compress, his velvet duster covering her like a blanket, still warm from his body. "Are you a complete and utter FOOL?" He hissed angrily. "Do you know what could have happened? What they could have DONE to you! What on Earth possessed your little mind to get involved in something you had NO RIGHT to get involved in?"

"Ah… Erik…" The older man, who had thus far been standing several feet away, finally spoke. "Perhaps you should let me speak to the girl, hmm?" Erik swore under his breath and handed the other man the compress as he stood up and went to sit on the floor in a dark corner of the room. "You'll have to excuse Erik. He has yet to learn his manners. You'd think at his age he would know how to talk to a lady." The man let out a dramatic sigh. "But alas, he believes everyone should be as miserable as him." The man then smiled a kind warm smile, and held his free hand out to Christine. "My name is Nadir Khan, my dear. And I suppose you are Erik's new friend? Christine Daaé, yes?"

Christine wanted to ask Nadir how he knew about the vampires, how he knew what Erik did at night, how he seemed rather practiced in such matters himself… but she couldn't find the nerve.

Instead, she simply shook the man's hand. "Is he really angry?" she asked softly.

Nadir shrugged. "I think you gave him quite a fright… and Erik is not one to frighten easily." The two heard Erik scoff from his dark little corner. Nadir sighed, "…the boy carried you all the way back here on his own. Wouldn't even let me near you."

"_Your _feeble arms would have dropped her," Erik muttered.

Nadir rolled his eyes. "As you can see, Erik is a rather pleasant fellow…" Christine giggled at that. "Oh, but you do have a precious little smile."

"I think you're done here, Nadir!" Erik stood up, arms crossed, eyes glowering angrily.

"Excuse me just a moment, Miss Daaé," Nadir handed Christine the compress to hold against her own head, and stood up to walk over to Erik, talking softly so the girl couldn't overhear, "She has no idea how you feel, does she?" Nadir asked.

Erik frowned. "Not now. Not ever."

"And why not?" Nadir asked, "For goodness sake, the girl lunged at a vampire for you."

"Because I am her _friend_, Nadir. She would do the same for Little Giry. It means nothing more than that."

"And how would you know?" Nadir asked with a raised eyebrow.

"_Look_ at her, Nadir!" Erik explained, "She's _beautiful_," he glanced away, his voice growing soft. "And I am _not_."

Nadir opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a soft voice. "Erik?" The two men turned to see Christine walking towards them. Erik wondered if she had she heard his discussion with Nadir. Christine studied the masked hunter for a moment, biting her lip nervously. "I'm sorry … for getting involved. I… I was just-" she stopped and looked down at the floor. "I didn't want to see you get hurt, that's all."

"And I'm sure Erik appreciates that, my dear," Nadir replied. "Oh… and now I must leave you! I'll see you later then." Without another word, Nadir quickly left the room.

_He left a little **too** quickly,_ Erik thought, and realized he was now left alone to face Christine. "You'll probably have a headache in the morning," was all he could muster as the lovely girl stood there looking up at him. He reached out and gently touched the bump on her forehead, which was now turning a rather interesting shade of purple. "How will you explain this?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I'll say that I fell trying to practice on my own,"

Erik nodded, then brushed his long graceful fingers down Christine's cheek, _so very lovely_… he thought, his gesture receiving a comely blush. Erik quickly pulled his hand away, immediately turning his back to the girl. He had no right to taint her with his touch. "You should go back to your room. Get some sleep." His voice was cold. Even. Not once betraying the emotions that twisted painfully inside him.

"Erik…" Christine reached her arms out hesitantly before dropping them back to her side. He seemed to be suffering from some inner turmoil. With his earlier anger at her interference, she did not think a _hug_ would have been welcomed. Christine let out a slow shaky breath as she studied his tense back. "Ok, Erik. I'll go. I'm sorry I angered you so much…"

Erik finally turned back to face her, but she had already started gathering her purse and coat. She turned to him briefly, and met his eyes. Those golden depths looked warm, and painfully sad. "Christine…" he began, suddenly summoning the courage to tell her what Nadir had suggested, "I was worried because I-"

The ringing of Christine's cell phone broke the moment. She apologized as she clumsily reached into her purse and pulled it out, "Hello?" a pause, then the girl's eyes went wide. "Raoul! Finally! I wanted to talk to you… about what happened between us-" another pause. "Tomorrow night? Ok. I'll meet you then," she disconnected, then turned her attention back to Erik, only to see that his eyes, which had been warm moments ago, now turned to ice. "Erik?"

"Go back to your dorm, Christine."

"But-"

"LEAVE!" he interrupted.

She frowned angrily. "You're still mad. Fine. Be that way! Remind me not to try and help you again."

He stepped closer to her, golden eyes aflame. "I did not _need _your help! I have never needed _anyone's _help! Not now. Not when I was a child. Not _ever_!"

Christine froze for a moment. In his voice, she heard pain. Intense pain disguised as anger. She opened her mouth to speak, but realized any words she could have said would have proven futile.

In the following silence, the petite dancer turned gracefully on her heel and headed out of Erik's room.

* * *

**Pareau Women's Prison**

"I have no son," 261 snorted at Anotinette Giry, "What would possibly give you that idea?"

Giry held a piece of paper up to the glass, "Is this not your signature? _Madeline Renau_? I tried looking for his father, but it seems the man whose name you put here does not exist."

Madeline looked away from the birth certificate that mocked her, "A fake name."

"Charles Garner - a play on the great architect. Did you have any idea your son would follow in the fake man's footsteps?"

Madeline's eyes went wide, a brief look of pride came over her face. "Erik is an architect?"

"Among other things," Giry replied, then arched an eyebrow, "So you are _admitting _Erik is your son then?"

Madeline frowned, "Yes, Madame Giry. I have a bastard son named Erik! What of it?"

"Who was his father?"

"What business is it of yours?" she asked.

"I am concerned about Erik and I just wish to know more about the man who fathered him," Giry replied. If the Guild wasn't going to give her answers about Erik's background, then she would find out herself.

"He didn't _look_ like Erik, that's for sure!" she snorted. "He was beautiful, muscular, tall. He looked like a Greek god! The kind any woman would lust for," she then narrowed her eyes. "And my son is _not _your concern!"

"Apparently, he wasn't _your_ concern either," Giry replied coolly, her voice disapproving.

"Are you here to tell me what a horrible mother I was? Social Services made that abundantly clear when they took him away from me when he was ten! Then they LOST him when he was fifteen!" She snapped. "I haven't laid eyes on him in twenty years," she relaxed a little, "Of course, he's free to visit, though I doubt he even knows I'm locked up here."

Giry studied the woman before her. "You'd be surprised at what Erik knows," she replied. "He is quite aware his mother is in jail for running a whore house and pushing drugs."

"A woman's gotta make a living somehow. Don't forget I was charged with _petty theft_ too," Madeline then smirked. "Petty theft was the one thing I taught Erik at a young age. He was good at it, you know. He was very skillful at _not_ being seen."

"He _still_ is," Giry answered. "It's a talent."

Madeline nodded, "He has _several _talents," she said. "I remember how he used to sing for me with the voice of an angel. I guess he was hoping for some kind of emotional response," she shrugged. "He even taught himself how to play piano," she took a deep breath and put a hand to her eyes. "He was a brilliant boy. Far beyond his years," she stopped, and Giry could hear a quiet sob escape her throat. "I was too caught up in drinking, drugs, and men to notice how much he tried to love me. Probably the only one who ever _did _love me, and I treated him like he carried the plague. Just rejected him outright."

Giry's voice was quiet when she spoke again. "And his father?"

Madeline shook her head, "I was only nineteen, maybe twenty. Lost. Confused. I didn't know what to do. He was there the day Erik was born. He said he'd be _watching _him... but the next day, he disappeared from our lives!" She looked up at Giry, a bitter frown on her lips. "He obviously couldn't stand the sight of his son's _face_."

"What else can you tell me about him?" Giry pressed.

Madeline thought a moment, then allowed a small smile to come to her lips. "There was a dark charisma about him that I couldn't refuse. I wanted him like I had wanted no other man. It was as if he placed a spell on me, drawing me in. It was his eyes - something in those eyes could make a person do things they wouldn't otherwise do. I often thought he was beyond any _normal _man," she then snapped out of her reverie, her voice growing icy, "But of course, leaving us flat made it clear he WAS a normal man! I have no idea where he is now, or where he disappeared too. If I'm lucky, he's dead," she sighed softly. "I don't see why any of this matters."

"Did he have a temper?" Giry asked.

Madeline met Giry's eyes. "Yes. A fearsome temper. He took it out on me several times... and yet, I always went back to him," she bit her lip. "Don't tell me Erik has inherited that," she looked horrified. "Don't tell me he's turned into a heartless beast!"

"Erik can be cold, even dangerous... but he can also be very kind and gentle," her voice then grew quiet. "As he is with _her_."

"_Her_?" Madeline leaned forward, curious now. "There's a _her_?"

Giry looked up, not meaning to say her last words aloud. "A friend, nothing more."

"Is she pretty?" Madeline asked.

"_Beautiful_," Giry replied. "A nineteen-year old dancer he is currently teaching music to."

"A girl like that won't be anything _more_ then a friend to someone like him," Madeline replied. "And I imagine Erik is smart enough to know that."

"Time's up, 261!" A voice interrupted their conversation, a burly female guard coming up to Madeline and Giry. "Time to head back to your cell."

"Wait," Giry got to her feet and turned to the guard who stood beside her. "Give this to Madeline. She should have it," she handed the guard Erik's birth certificate. "And she should never again forget that she has a son…"

**END OF EPISODE 11**


	12. Episode 12:Giry Family Christmas Special

**A/N: As always, a Super-Special thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir. **

**After all the action and angst in the last 11 episodes/chapters, I decided to write a fluffy/comedic episode (with just a little bit of angst thrown in). I apologize ahead of time… but it just had to be done**

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter**

**Episode 12: Giry Family Christmas Special**

By: Elektra

**Dean Giry's office **

"Why was our resident ghost haunting the auditorium?" Dean Giry demanded as she stared up at Erik as he slid down from the air-ducts. "I do not recall giving him permission to crash our rehearsals, nor do I appreciate it."

Erik walked to the wall and leaned casually against it, arms crossed. "And your resident ghost does not appreciate watching perverted college boys groping his friends,"

Giry raised an eyebrow, "_Friend_. Funny how you still use that word to describe her, when it was obvious your anger was far more then _friendly _concern." Erik was silent, knowing there was no point in denying it. Giry spoke again. "I went to see Madeline the other day."

Erik noticeably stiffened. "Are you snooping into my business, Antoinette?"

"Oh please, Erik. She has never been your business … but she should be." Giry was silent a moment, then continued, "Don't you even want to speak to her?"

"She was a drugged-up whore when I was child, and she still was when they locked her up. That is all I need to know about Madeline Renau. The woman didn't even have the decency to give me a proper last name!" he responded coldly.

Giry sighed, "All this bitterness cannot be healthy for you Erik. Your mother-"

"Her name is Madeline. Do not refer to her as _my mother_!" he hissed.

Giry closed her eyes a moment, then opened them again. "Your mother made mention that she would like your company,"

"Do not lie to me, Antoinette. That woman has never liked my company."

"Considering the time of year, perhaps you would be willing to forgive. If only for one night?"

Erik glanced at the calendar on Giry's wall and saw the date – December 23rd. He had been aware that dreadful day was looming, but he had not realized it was so close now, "It has not mattered to her in thirty years, Antoinette. Why would it matter now?" he replied.

Before Giry could say another word, Erik jumped back up into the air-ducts and disappeared.

* * *

**Starbucks Coffee**

"Christine, I'm so glad you agreed to meet me here today," Raoul De Chagny began as he sat across from the lovely girl currently stirring her white chocolate mocha, "It means a lot to me," he said, then took deep breath and gathered his nerve. "I know I didn't handle things very well the other week, but if you would give me a chance to-"

"Raoul," Christine interrupted before he could say more. "I'm not going to move in or marry you. Not now. Maybe not ever. I don't know. I just… I need time," she pleaded. His face fell. "Listen, I care about you. I really do, but…" she bit her lip nervously. "There are other things I want to do first before I even THINK about marriage, ok?"

"I completely understand about your career," Raoul said as he reached across the table and grasped Christine's hand. "And I can hire you the best vocal instructor in the city. In the _country_ even!"

"I already HAVE the best vocal instructor in the country,"

Raoul frowned, "No, Christine. You don't. You have perhaps the _freakiest_ one, but certainly not the best."

"RAOUL!" Christine yanked her hand from his. "Don't start that again!"

"Fine! Fine…" Raoul replied. "I don't know what he's done to inspire such loyalty, but whatever. If you insist on keeping him as your teacher, then have the lessons at my place. I would love to sit in and-"

"And… what, Raoul? Spy on us? Make sure he doesn't try anything?" she frowned. "I can't learn like that. I need to be alone with him in order to succeed. If _you're _there…" she shook her head. "I just won't be comfortable,"

Raoul was stung. "You're not comfortable around me?" he asked.

"No! That's not what I meant! It's just-" she stopped.

How to explain it without offending him?

The truth of the matter was that when she was in the midst of a lesson with Erik, she could reveal her very soul through her voice. She would call on her emotions, her heart, her past experiences, to get a message across in song. Such things helped her understand the story being told. It went beyond simply _acting _the part. It gave her something to call upon when she was expected to perform onstage. No one knew this but her and Erik. He made her feel so very comfortable that she often found herself spilling out her innermost secrets through her singing. And yet… when all was said and done, she had never once felt embarrassed about it.

If Raoul were watching her lessons, however, then he would know Christine was not merely acting when she was onstage. He would know there was a part of her she was keeping secret. Christine would feel the need to hide from him. Hide her sadness. Hide her loneliness. Hide whatever made her less-than-perfect in his eyes. If she didn't, Raoul would question her emotions, coddle her like a child, or grow jealous if she released more passion in a duet with Erik than she ever had when she was alone with Raoul. He would not understand. He would, no doubt, accuse her of denying him once again.

No. That just could not happen.

"Forget it, Raoul," Christine finally spoke, not even bother trying to explain. "My lessons remain as they are. Private. That's it. I'm sorry." She met his eyes, then reached out and took his hand. "It's nothing against you, I swear. And I would love it if we still remained friends."

"Friends?" Raoul winced. Not the _let's be friends_ speech!

Raoul then remembered he had given Christine that same speech back in high school. Perhaps he deserved it coming back at him.

"Of course!" Christine offered Raoul a sweet smile. "And I'll start by asking if you're doing anything for Christmas."

"You want to spend Christmas with me?" he asked, reassured once more.

"Well, with you… and the Girys!" she explained. "They're having a family dinner and asked me to join them. Meg wanted to know if you'd be interested, so…" she shrugged. "Would you like to come?"

"I would love to," Raoul replied, then lifted Christine's hand and placed a kiss atop it. "Just tell me when and where!"

* * *

**Arts building – later that night**

Christine and Erik were taking a break from their lessons when Christine's eyes traveled to the window. She smiled as she caught a glimpse of colourful lights reflecting off the whiteness of the snow. Ravelle College had been decorated for the season, though most of the students were home with their families.

Neither Christine nor Erik, however, had family to go home to.

"I've always loved Christmas," the little dancer began wistfully. "When I was a kid, my father would take me ice skating. And we'd always get a picture with Santa at every department store we went to. Christmas Eve was the one night he refused all job offers to entertain at restaurants," she turned around to look at Erik, the sweet smile still on her face. "He used to play violin, you know," she said. "And I'd join him some nights and sing accompaniment - when it didn't interfere with school, of course."

"How nice for you," Erik replied dryly, then brought his attention back to the music sheets he was arranging as he sat at the piano.

"Can you sing for me Erik?" she asked hopefully. "I'd love to hear _Holy Night_ sung by a real angel," she winked.

He let out a harsh laugh. "I am not an angel, nor am I interested in anything _holy_. In fact, I am quite possibly, the _un_holiest creature you will ever meet. I am sure such a song would sound like the devil himself was singing from my lips."

Christine scooted onto the piano bench beside him. "You're not some unholy creature, Erik. You're just a man," she looked up at him. "And anything you sing sounds like heaven,"

"If you say so, Christine…" he answered.

"OH!" Christine suddenly remembered something. "Meg invited me over for Christmas dinner tomorrow! Want to come? She said I could invite anyone I wanted to. Please come, Erik! Pretty please?"

Erik glanced down at her. Her face was filled with all the eager excitement of a little child as she looked up at him, her lovely blue eyes wide and hopeful. Had anyone else asked, he would have easily said no, and told them to go to a very _un_-Christmas-y place, but this was Christine.

"Yes…" he said before he could stop himself. He was quickly finding that he could deny her nothing.

The excited girl clapped her hands, releasing a high-pitched squeal that Erik thought was only reserved for calling dogs.

What on Earth had he just agreed to?

* * *

**Giry household – the next night**

Erik could not take his eyes off the man who stood before him in the doorway to the Giry Residence. Handsome, golden-tanned, blond haired Raoul De Chagny. "Christine…" Erik began dangerously. "Why did you not tell me HE would be here?"

Christine looked innocent. "Oh, I didn't think it would matter." She bit her lip nervously. She _did_ know it would matter. But since it was Christmas, she was hoping Raoul and Erik would be civil.

"Ooohhh… who do we have here!" a loud crackling voice started from the dining room. An elderly lady, who seemed more than a little tipsy, came into the hallway with a full glass of eggnog. She smiled as she saw the two men staring each other down in the front hallway. Neither had removed their coats yet, having entered at the same time, "Mmmm, young men!"

"Grandma," Meg started as she quickly came out of the dinning room with Richard Firmin Jr. "This is Raoul De Chagny, and Erik-" she stopped as she looked up at the masked man, "I don't know your last name!" She said as if she just realized it.

"I don't have one," he muttered.

Meg furrowed her brow, then shrugged. "Um… ok… well… just ERIK then," she said to Grandma, then turned back to her guests. "Here, let me take your coats,"

Raoul practically tossed his coat at the little ballet dancer. Erik, on the other hand, seemed hesitant to remove his duster. His stakes and his rope were in there, after all. Meg stood patiently, waiting. Erik reluctantly handed it to her, "Hey, this is heavy! What do you keep in here?"

Meg reached for the pocket, but Erik quickly grasped her wrist. "Nothing that is your business, Little Giry," he answered. Meg nodded nervously and ceased her search.

The elder Giry, who had entered the foyer with Firmin, didn't seem overly upset about Erik's rudeness towards her daughter. She knew very well what Erik kept in the pockets of his duster, and she would rather Meg never found out.

* * *

**Giry Family Residence – Dinner time**

Everyone had settled into light chit-chat in the living room – all except Erik, who was lurking in a dark corner watching everything before him – when the hostess of the night finally spoke. "After dinner, I shall lead you all to your rooms. The three boys will room in the den together, Meg and Christine will share Meg's room, and Grandmother will have the spare bedroom." No one dared ask where Firmin would be staying, as it was obvious he would room with Giry for the night.

"I would rather sleep on the living room couch, Antoinette," Erik muttered.

"Yes, Antoinette, give him the couch!" Raoul frowned as he glared at Erik, completely aghast at the prospect of sharing a room with the masked man.

Giry raised an eyebrow, "I prefer _Madame Giry _please, Mr. De Chagny!"

Raoul furrowed his brow. "But Erik just called you-"

"Never mind what Erik called me. YOU will call me Madame Giry. Is that understood?"

Raoul opened his mouth, then closed it again, humbly schooled as Giry led everyone to the dinning area.

When dinner was finally on the table, Erik picked up his fork. A nudge from Christine stopped him before he could eat. She nodded to her clasped hands. Erik seemed confused for a moment, then shrugged and mirrored her gesture.

Giry spoke quietly, eyes closed. "Bless us o Lord and these thy gifts which we are about to receive, from thy bounty, through Christ our Lord, amen."

Erik squirmed at the words she spoke. _Your so-called Lord had never blessed ME, let alone my food_. He thought. These words meant nothing to him. Why must he be a party to them? He was quite grateful when Giry finished and they were finally able to eat.

RJ leaned over to Meg as he dug into his turkey. He tried to keep his voice quiet, but Erik's keen ears could pick up his words. "Why does he wear a mask?" He glanced subtly at Erik. "Isn't that kind of… _weird_?"

Firmin, who was sitting beside his son, heard the question and paled. "Now now, RJ… that is a personal matter," he offered quickly. "It's rude to ask about such things."

"Seriously, dad!" RJ insisted, then looked over to Erik. "Were you in an accident or something?"

"No… but I _cause_ accidents," Erik replied coldly. He raised his golden eyes to the chandelier that hung over the Giry dining table.

How very tempting it was right now…

"Erik?" Christine's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Yes, Christine?" he glanced at the girl beside him, noticing she had finished her meal. He looked down at his own plate, and remembered it was empty as well. Meg quickly set about cleaning up the dishes with her mother.

"Can you sing for us?" Christine asked hopefully.

Erik was about to refuse… until Raoul piped up, "Oh yes, sing for us, Erik! Since you're so good at giving _Christine _lessons and all!" His voice was taunting.

"Are you challenging me, De Chagny?" he asked. Raoul looked smug. Erik smirked. "Perhaps we should _both _sing then!"

"NO, Erik!" Christine protested, and one look at her face made it clear to Erik that hearing Raoul sing would be cruel and unusual punishment for all involved.

Erik sighed with resignation, then glanced at Christine, looking less then happy that she put him on the spot. "Any requests? It seems I cannot get out of this now,"

She smiled, "Do you know _Angel_ by Sarah McLachlan?"

"Of course…" he muttered, then stood up and headed over to the piano on the far side of the room. Everyone stopped what they were doing to gather around, interested in what they'd hear.

Erik raised his hands, and began to play. The moment he parted his lips, a most beautiful sound began to spill out. "_Spend all your time waiting - For that second chance - For a break that would make it okay. There's always some reason - To feel not good enough - And it's hard at the end of the day - I need some distraction - Oh beautiful release - memories seep from my veins …_"

Christine watched Erik as he sang, his eyes closed, his body swaying gracefully, his fingers brushing deftly over the keys. She felt her chest tighten as she realized these lyrics were, perhaps, hitting Erik far too close to home. The emotion in his voice was almost overwhelming. Christine couldn't help but put a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob.

Erik opened his eyes to glance up at the girl, his fingers never losing pace. She suddenly lowered herself on the bench beside him, her eyes never leaving him as he continued. He had to force himself to look away from those beautiful blue eyes, wishing that they didn't send his pulse racing. "_Let me be empty - And weightless and maybe - I'll find some peace tonight…_" he begged in his song. "_In the arms of an angel - Fly away from here…_"

* * *

**Pareau Women's Prison**

_You are pulled from the wreckage  
Of your silent reverie  
You're in the arms of an angel.  
May you find some comfort there_

Madeline Renau looked down at the paper in her hand.

A birth certificate.

_So tired of the straight line  
And everywhere you turn  
There's vultures and thieves at your back_

Mother's name:

Madeline Renau

_And the storm keeps on twisting  
You keep on building the lie  
That you make up for all that you lack_

Father's name:

What did it matter? It wasn't even a real name.

_It don't make no difference  
Escaping one last time_

Child's name:

Erik

She hadn't even given him her last name.  
_  
It's easier to believe in this sweet madness oh  
This glorious sadness that brings me to my knees_

Date of Birth: December 25th

_You are pulled from the wreckage  
Of your silent reverie  
You're in the arms of the angel  
May you find some comfort there_

Madeline glanced at the calendar on the wall of her cell.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow was her son's 31st birthday…

* * *

**Giry Family Residence**

"_You're in the arms of the angel. May you find some comfort here…_" Erik finished the last line of the song, and took a deep breath. Everyone was stunned into silence even, Erik noticed with some pride, that ever-annoying De Chagny boy.

"WHO WANTS MORE EGGNOG?" A loud slurred voice broke the moment. Everyone turned to see Grandma Giry chugging the eggnog straight from the carton.

The group began muttering to one another as they parted from the piano, grabbing cookies and cakes from the dessert table.

Erik stood up and stretched his long frame out. He walked a few feet, quite aware of Christine's presence behind him. He turned to her. "Yes, Christine?" He asked, then followed her eyes as she glanced up at the green leaves hanging above his head. "What, exactly, is that?" he asked, "I have seen it spread throughout the house,"

Christine looked at Erik. "Mistletoe," she said, surprised that he didn't know. How could he NOT know? Unless - "There's a tradition…" she began nervously. "Um - close your eyes?" She could see the suspicion in his golden depths. "_Please _close your eyes?" she insisted. He took one last glance at her, then did so. "Can you… uh… lean down a little?" she asked.

"What are you plotting, Christine?" he asked, his eyes opening slightly.

"Trust me, Erik. Just close your eyes, and lean down a bit more,"

"Very well," he muttered. His eyes shut, and he lowered his head a few inches.

Christine stood on her tiptoes and placed a hand on his shoulder for support, the other brushing his ebony locks off the left side of his mask. She slowly tilted her head up and pressed her lips against the black leather. Erik's eyes suddenly flew open, his head shooting up in surprise, inadvertently causing Christine's soft mouth to slide down to the uncovered part of his jaw.

"Oh!" Christine gasped, quickly pulling back, "I - I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" she blushed at the intense look Erik was giving her. She carefully lifted her hand to wipe away the lipstick mark she had left on his pale skin, her fingers lingering longer then necessary, "That… that wasn't my intention," she whispered softly, unable to turn away from him.

"Oooh, you missed the boy's lovely mouth!" Grandma Giry slurred as she reached out and pinched Erik's backside, causing the usually graceful man to stumble back at least two feet. "Here! Let _me_ show you!"

"NO!" Erik's eyes went wide as he immediately removed himself from the vicinity of the mistletoe. "No more! Don't TOUCH me. Don't KISS me. Don't do ANYTHING to me!" he hissed angrily, then quickly headed to the back of the room, checking above for any green leaves before leaning against the wall.

Erik took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding of his heart as his fingers gently brushed over his jaw. He closed his eyes, still feeling the warmth of Christine's lips.

A kiss on the cheek!

It was the most affection anyone had ever shown him, even if it was only done in honour of tradition.

"My turn!" Erik saw Raoul come up behind Christine, grasping the girl around the waist as he turned her to face him. The boy smiled playfully, glanced up at the mistletoe, then brought his mouth down full onto hers, catching the girl off-guard in a long lingering kiss.

Erik was suddenly behind him, the masked man's long strong fingers tangled in the boy's hair as he roughly yanked Raoul away from a very flushed – though not altogether unhappy - Christine.

"I don't recall Christine INVITING you to kiss her like that!" Erik growled dangerously into the other man's ear, tightening his grip on Raoul's lovely golden locks.

"_I'll_ invite him to kiss me like that!" said a very drunk Grandma Giry, standing where Christine had just been moments ago - beneath the mistletoe. Erik's eyes focused first on Grandma, then returned back to Raoul, the amber pools suddenly glittering with mischief.

Before Raoul could figure out what Erik was planning, the young De Chagny found himself shoved towards Grandma Giry's waiting arms… and lips.

The masked man was quite certain that no other male on Earth could have shrieked as high as Raoul De Chagny had while in the midst of Grandma's passionate, and very wet, kiss.

Raoul finally broke free from Grandma Giry… and attempted to keep his eggnog down as he desperately raced to the washroom.

* * *

**Giry Family Residence – 4am**

Christine wandered the halls of the Giry residence aimlessly. She couldn't sleep, being far too excited about Christmas morning and the presents that had caught her eye earlier. She passed the living room, and was drawn in by the colourful lights that graced the Christmas tree. It left such a pretty glow along the walls in the darkness.

Christine came around the couch, and felt something hit her thigh. She gasped, and looked to see two legs and socked feet hanging over the arm of the couch. The blankets, which at first seemed to be thrown haphazardly over the couch, stirred slightly now, a low groan emanating from beneath them.

The girl's eyes went wide as a disheveled Erik tossed the blankets off and sat up, blinking at the sight before him as he brushed his messy hair back from his mask,

"Christine?" he muttered lazily, then swung his feet to the floor. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Why are you sleeping on the couch?" she asked as she sat beside him. "I thought Dean Giry had a nice air mattress and sleeping bag for you in the den?"

"Yes… along with a loudly snoring De Chagny, and a perverted RJ - who doesn't know enough NOT to talk in his sleep when dreaming of Little Giry."

Christine smiled at that, then patted him on the leg. "But you're way too tall for the couch, poor thing," she said. Erik simply shrugged his shoulders which, Christine noticed, were bare… along with the rest of his upper body, allowing the decorative lights to reflect off his smooth pale skin, making the man seem truly angelic as he sat before her. She looked away and focused her attention on the tree. "It's so pretty, isn't it?" she asked.

"Beautiful," Erik replied, but it wasn't the tree he was looking at. Christine turned to him, and he quickly averted his eyes. He slid down to the floor and rested his back against the couch. "This was a rather _interesting_ night…" he said as he now focused on the colourful boxes on the floor in front of him. "It was certainly an experience I will never forget… nor repeat."

Christine furrowed her brow. "Didn't you enjoy it?" she asked as she joined him on the ground.

Erik sighed. "Of everything that happened tonight, I'm most enjoying just sitting here with you," he replied. "Let's face it, Christine, I am not made for socializing. I feel uncomfortable, and incredibly out of place. I suppose I have just been solitary for too long,"

"But didn't your family ever have Christmas dinners?" Christine asked.

Erik let out a cold chuckle. "_Madeline _did. But I was never invited. I spent my time locked away in my room, told not to show my face – or mask – downstairs,"

Christine was confused for a moment. "Who's Madeline?" she asked gently.

"The woman whose body spit me out thirty years ago," Erik stopped, glanced up at the clock above the fireplace, then continued, "_Thirty-one _years ago now, I suppose. It's after midnight."

Christine's eyes went wide. "Today is your birthday!"

Erik shrugged, "Apparently. I was given life at 12:07am on December 25th. Or so my birth certificate claims. I would never know from the way Madeline did her best to ignore it."

Erik suddenly froze as he felt Christine's silky head resting against his bare shoulder, her fingers entwining with his.

"Happy Birthday, Erik," Christine said as she tilted her head up ever so slightly, her lips only inches from his.

Erik's breath caught. Surely she didn't intend-

"Is there a party I don't know about?" Grandma Giry's voice blared as she stumbled into the living room.

Christine quickly jumped away from Erik, her face flushed as she realized what she had almost done. What on earth had possessed her? For a moment, looking into his golden eyes as he sat beside her, she had found herself wanting to-

"Grandmother Giry," came Madame Giry's sleep-filled voice. "All I have heard is _you_ shuffling around for the last ten minutes,"

"Look, Ant! There are people in here!" Grandma pointed out excitedly.

Christine quickly stumbled to her feet. Erik, on the other hand, took his time, rising with nothing less then complete grace and poise - as per usual. "Antoinette, Madame," he nodded at both ladies in turn. "I hope we didn't wake you,"

Giry shook her head. "No, it wasn't _you_, Erik," she turned to the older lady beside her, lips pursued in annoyance. "Go back to bed, Grandmother!"

Grandmother Giry seemed rather entranced, however, ignoring Giry as she stared at Erik, a strange smile on her face. "Can I take the sexy masked man with!" she slurred.

_After all these hours, the woman is still **inebriated**? _Erik thought.

Despite Erik's lack of female contact, he certainly did not want to have anything to do with Grandmother Giry.

A deliciously evil idea came to him.

"The blonde De Chagny boy was looking for you earlier, Ma'am," Erik said to the old woman. "He wishes you to show him how to kiss a lady properly again. He would like to practice for future reference,"

"OH!" Grandmother Giry clapped her hands together happily, then shuffled off into the hallway.

"Erik! You're _terrible_!" Christine gasped, appalled that he would lie so overtly to a drunken old woman.

Erik lifted a hand. "Hush now," he spoke quickly, "Wait for it…" And then, they heard it. The high-pitched shriek of terror. The complete and utter horror of a handsome young man's worst nightmare. Raoul's scream was soon muffled as Grandma Giry proceeded to _teach_ the young De Chagny all he could ever want to know about locking lips with a woman.

Erik's laughter started off as a deep quiet chuckle, then grew louder and more frightening as it began to crescendo, filling the room with its evil presence, and causing Erik to stumble back against the wall with the sheer force of his malicious glee.

Oh yes… this was certainly an experience he would never forget…

**END OF EPISODE 12**


	13. Episode 13: Family Secrets

**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir! **

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

**Episode 13: Family Secrets**

By: Elektra

Erik tightened the noose around the man's neck, and tugged. Hard. The sound of breaking vertebrae echoed in his ears as he watched the man fall limply to the ground.

"What did you do?" a voice gasped a few feet away. Erik turned to see Christine staring at him, eyes wide, tiny hand over her mouth. "You killed him! Murdered him!"

"No!" Erik protested. "It's not what you think!" he tried to explain. "I had to! Oh, Christine, I HAD to! He would have killed others! It is what I do. It's why the Hunters' Guild needs me so! You don't understand-"

"Murderer!" she cried out.

"I'm the Guild's Executioner!"

"_Murderer!_ " she repeated.

"I'm their Assassin!"

"MURDERER!" She screamed, then spun around and ran off into the darkness.

* * *

**Ravelle College - Erik's Room**

"Christine!" Erik cried out as he shot up in bed. He looked around the room, and found he was alone.

...in the dark...

...as always...

It was a dream. No. A nightmare.

Executioner. Assassin. The Guild could call him what they wished. The truth was, he was a murderer.

Plain and simple.

As if his hideous face wasn't enough to deny him Christine's heart.

Erik ran a hand through his disheveled hair, noticing it was growing long enough to brush his jaw now. No matter. He didn't mind the length. It was something else he could hide behind.

Erik was suddenly startled by the high-pitched ringing of his cell phone. He quickly grabbed it and frowned at the caller ID. Blocked Call.

Perhaps someone was looking for an architect?

"Erik speaking, may I help you?" he asked politely, as was his custom when greeting a possible new customer.

There was a breathy pause, "Oh god… you sound just like _him_! "

Erik froze. He hadn't heard that voice in twenty years. Why now? Why, after all this time, did her voice still affect him? "Madeline."

"Hello, Erik," Madeline began. "Someone... someone gave me your phone number. A woman. She came to visit-"

"Antoinette."

"Uh... yeah. Antoinette Giry. That was her name. I... just wanted to wish you a happy birthday, Erik. I know... I know it's a few weeks late, but... it took a while to ... find my nerve. I haven't had any way to contact you since... since Social Services took you away and I-"

"Are you dying, Madeline?" Erik interrupted coldly. "Do you suddenly feel the need to make amends for your sins before you pass on? Is _that_ why you're calling me?"

"What? N-no! I'm... I'm fine, Erik." A momentary pause. "Would you CARE if I was dying?" she asked.

"As much as you would care if _I_ was," he replied angrily.

"You're my son, Erik!" Madeline replied.

He let out a harsh laugh. "And I remember several times as a child you told me straight to my ugly face that you wished me dead. Don't play the loving mother now, Madeline!"

"I was hardly ever sober when you were a child," she explained.

"And you are NOW, I suppose, what with the prison system not allowing their inmates alcohol and drugs," he shot back sarcastically.

"Calling you was a mistake," Madeline replied. "I'm sorry. I never should've bothered. I knew you would be bitter and angry. I knew... but I thought I could deal with it," he heard a shaky breath, "It seems I can't. If... if you ever want to write me, or visit, you know where I am..."

"Madeline..." Erik began before she had a chance to hang up. She waited. He took a deep breath. "Hearing your voice after all these years is not entirely offensive."

It was the best he could offer.

"And hearing _your_ voice after all these years is as beautiful as ever," she replied quietly. "I'm sorry I never told you that when you were a child..." A voice in the background interrupted Madeline's words, informing her that her time was up. "I have to go, Erik. It-it was good to hear you again." Another pause. "I would like you to visit… sometime…"

Nothing more was said as they both disconnected.

Erik sat staring at the phone for several moments before he finally put it back on his night table. He raised a hand, saw it shaking. How could she have unnerved him so? Was it the latent anger upon hearing her voice? Or the painful memories it conjured up?

Erik didn't wait to figure it out as he steeled his mettle and quickly slid out of bed.

* * *

**DeChagny Residence – that afternoon**

Christine slowly wandered down the halls of the DeChagny mansion on her way back to the TV room after a quick nature call. The place was nice. Classy-looking. She wondered if she could live here, like Raoul had asked her.

She shook her head. No. It wasn't cozy.

It was too big. Too _much_.

She walked passed Philip's study, and froze when she heard the voices emanating from the semi-opened door. One was Philip's… but the other….

_What is HE doing here? _Christine wondered as she slunk a little closer to the door.

The silky smooth voice stopped speaking for a moment. She then heard someone slowly walking towards the door, pushing it the rest of the way open.

A man stood before her, simply staring at her. _It ISN'T him after all_, Christine realized as she looked over the man's form. He was almost the same height as Erik, rather pale …

… and incredibly beautiful.

Upon studying his lovely face and thick ebony hair, she decided the man could be no older then thirty. She smiled up at him, feeling a slight blush on her cheeks. There was something about him… something that drew her …

His eyes!

Christine's heart skipped a beat. Surely it was a trick of the light. Surely this man did not have _Erik's_ eyes! The same colour. The same intensity.

But where Erik's eyes were - at times - warm and kind, THIS man's eyes looked as if they could never be anything but cold and cruel.

And frightening.

So very frightening.

Christine hugged herself, trying to suppress a shiver. "Wh-who are you?" she asked as he studied her a little too closely.

"One does not eavesdrop on two gentlemen conversing, then ask questions when confronted." He replied.

_Oh god_, Christine thought, _he even **talks** like him_. "I-I'm sorry," she stuttered. "I… didn't mean to eavesdrop. Your voice just reminded me of someone. A friend of mine." She shook her head. "I'm really sorry!" She then spun around and raced down the hall, away from the angelic-looking man and the sudden fear he inspired in her.

"Raoul!" Christine gasped as she returned to the younger DeChagny in the TV Room, "Who's that man your brother's talking too?"

Raoul furrowed his brow at her sudden question, and the nervousness that had accompanied it. "No idea. Some business associate of his, I guess." He then frowned. "I don't think business is going very well though, because whenever my brother finishes talking to him, he's always in a bad mood." _And he always reminds me to keep trying to pursue you,_ Raoul thought silently, wondering why Philip's guest made his brother feel there was a desperate need for a DeChagny marriage. He'd have to ask him about that another time.

"Does he remind you of anyone?" Christine asked.

"No," Raoul replied with a shrug, then grew concerned at how unsettled she was. "Why, Chrissy? Should he?"

* * *

**Erik's Room – that night**

"So you're saying this man had my voice, my eyes?" Erik asked as paced back and forth in front of Christine. She had come to his room as soon as Raoul had dropped her back at Residence. She needed to tell him about her strange encounter.

Erik had not been happy to find out Christine had gone over there, but it was not jealousy that caused his distress. It was the fact that Nadir had informed Erik he had seen _the Leader _leaving the DeChagny residence not too long ago.

But how could he explain that to Christine? Would she even understand? Or would she assume he was resentful of her relationship with DeChagny?

"Yeah. I was wondering if you had a brother or something." She looked up at him, "He was creepy, Erik. I mean, really creepy." She then realized her words. "But that's NOT why he reminded me of you!" she added quickly.

"I would not hold it against you if it WAS, Christine. I'm quite aware of what people think of me."

"I don't think that. I'd never think that!" she insisted.

He glanced at her, then looked away. "You are a good girl, Christine. Never wanting to offend anyone." He shook his head. "But I'm used to being offended, so it does not matter."

He sat on the bed beside her. "But to answer your question – no. Madeline did not have any other children as far as I know. I imagine I was horror enough for her as it was. Considering the way she treated ME, another child would have driven her mad."

Christine studied him for a moment. "The scars on your back..." she began hesitantly. "Was it her?"

"Oh, Madeline enjoyed taking her animosity out on me quite a bit... but the scars on my back... no," he explained. "When I was 13, a few older boys in my foster neighbourhood decided to set up a little freak show in their backyard."

A cold frightening chuckle suddenly escaped Erik's throat. "Rather ingenious, when you think of it, actually. I was certainly an attraction. That being said, when I tried to hide my face from their _customers_, they ended up using their father's leather belt as a whip."

Christine was amazed at the cool calmness of his voice as he related the story. She then noted how he unconsciously slid his fingers beneath the sleeve of his shirt and rubbed at his wrists. When the black material moved up his arm, she finally saw why. "Erik! What-"

"Ahh, curious I see." He answered coolly, then slid up his sleeves and showed her the faded scars encircling his wrists. "I was handcuffed to a fence and cut myself up trying to break loose,"

"Oh God..." She gasped as she reached out to touch the damaged skin. Erik quickly tugged his wrist away before she could make contact.

"I managed to free myself eventually," he continued unemotionally. "I doubt my foster parents even noticed I was gone," he shrugged. "Or if they did, perhaps they were grateful. Either way, they got rid of me shortly afterwards. Told the social workers I was too much to handle."

He saw the look upon her face and let out a cold laugh. "Oh, no need to worry so much about my well being, Christine. It was all an advantage, really. I was able to train myself to have a rather high threshold for pain – both physical and psychological. It's something that has proved rather useful in my night job."

Christine could only stare at him in disbelief. How could he just sit there and brush it off as if it were nothing? An advantage? That was an advantage NO ONE should have to have!

It made her heart hurt more then she thought possible. She wanted to take him in her arms, hug him. Comfort him.

Christine opted for the safest route instead, and put a hand on his shoulder. He turned to her, a frown on his lips. He didn't look happy at her offer of support. "I did _not_ tell you that for pity, Christine!" he hissed. "I simply wanted to explain the-"

Christine suddenly pressed a hand against his mouth, interrupting his words. "Do you ever stop being grumpy?" She shot back, "Do you ever consider that maybe… just maybe… the things I do or say are because… oh I don't know… because I actually _care_ about my friends? Has that even entered your mind just once?" she asked. He blinked in surprise at her tone. "It always has to be one or the other with you, Erik. Either someone pities you, or someone is disgusted by you. Ever think there might be something in-between?"

Erik wrapped his long bony fingers around her wrist and lifted her hand from his mouth. He turned her palm up and brushed his free index finger across it, studying it with such intensity that he didn't notice Christine's momentary shudder.

"You have a strong, deep heart line." He noted, then looked back at her. "It means you're a silly little girl who cares too damned much!" He let her hand drop.

Christine's hurt at his words overshadowed her surprise that Erik could read palms. She quickly stood up, trying to mask her emotions.

"I'm sorry that my caring about you offends you," she said as she turned to go, but not before Erik saw the flash of pain in her eyes.

_Damn it…_ Erik cursed silently

Christine froze when she felt two strong hands gently grasp her shoulders from behind.

"Forgive me, Christine." Erik's voice was soft now. "It is not that I'm offended. It is just that I'm not used to someone - _anyone_ - caring. I look upon it with suspicion," he was silent for a moment. "I know it's not fair of me to-" He was struck silent as Christine leaned back against him. He automatically flinched at the contact, though he knew he had no reason to.

"You really make it difficult for someone to befriend you," Christine finally said when she realized he was saying nothing more. "Don't you get that, Erik?" She tilted her head back, catching his eyes as she studied him upside down.

Erik stared down at her, "Christine..."his fingers curiously trailed their way up from her shoulder, his thumb brushing against her tilted jaw ever so gently. _Why are you letting me touch you…?_ _I have no right_

But Christine didn't pull away.

Erik quickly dropped his hands to his side and stepped back, startling the girl with the sudden lack of contact. Christine turned around, only to find his back facing her as his cold demeanor returned.

"If you see that man the next time you visit your lover," Erik's calm voice contradicted the wild emotions racing through him. "Call me. I will come to the DeChagny residence and find out who he is. Do not tell him or his older brother that you contacted me. I do not want the man to leave before I arrive."

In truth, he didn't want that man to be anywhere near Christine. Especially if he was the Leader, as Nadir had claimed.

Christine winced hearing Erik still refer to Raoul as her _lover_. He was nothing of the sort. She had even told Raoul he was more of a friend than a boyfriend.

Telling Erik that, however, would be a waste of breath.

"I will," she replied instead.

He nodded, his back still to her. "You should return to your dorm now, Christine," his voice was gentle. "You have an early class in the morning, yes?"

Christine was touched by his concern, "Yes. Vocal Techniques, level II," she then smiled, "But Senõr Piangi says I've already advanced past it. He said I must have an excellent tutor…"

Christine saw Erik tilt his head towards her ever so slightly. Enough to see the slight upward turn at the corner of his pale lips. "Is that so?" he asked.

"Yes. That's so."

"Well now… I can't imagine why you'd still need that class then," he said.

"I need to complete the credit, regardless," she shrugged. "It'll just be a lot easier for me than the others."

"Then I expect perfect marks for every test and exam that you take in that class."

Christine smiled. "As long as I have my tutor to help me practice, I won't disappoint."

Erik nodded and finally turned to face her. "Goodnight, Christine. Sleep well…"

"Good night, Erik. You sleep well too…" And with that, she let herself out.

* * *

**Meg and Christine's Dorm room – later**

"Chrissy?"

"Hmmm?" Christine looked up from her novel to see Meg staring at her.

"You've been reading that same page for the last twenty minutes."

Christine looked down at the page, skimmed over it once more, and frowned. Now why couldn't real-life be as simple as the romance novels she read? _Because that's what makes this FICTION_, she scolded herself. Boy meets girl, boy falls in love and courts girl, girl falls in love back, and they live happily ever after - and have great sex in the process.

Not that Christine would know anything about that...

"You look worried about something, Chrissy." Meg broke into her thoughts.

Christine sighed. "I think I'm in trouble," she said.

Meg was suddenly concerned. "Oh no! What did you do?"

"Not THAT kind of trouble!" Christine quickly corrected. "I mean… as far as relationships and stuff go."

"Is this about Raoul asking you to marry him?" Meg asked. "I mean, you could do worse, you know. He's a decent guy, really cute, and stinking rich too," she winked.

"Sure, it would be perfect … except I'm not in-love him," Christine replied softly. "I mean, I'm fond of him. I care about him, but as for a future together," she shook her head. "I don't see it."

Meg leaned forward now. "And who DO you see a future with?" she asked.

Christine looked back at Meg, a little surprised at her question. "I… no one. I mean…" she glanced away, "Not unless-" she quickly stopped, not wanting to say any more.

Meg raised an eyebrow. "Not unless WHAT, Chrissy? Do you have someone in mind?" she asked.

Christine shook her head and offered a forced smile. "Of course not. I can't… I can't be thinking of other guys after giving Raoul the _friends_ speech. That would make me… fickle… wouldn't it?"

"I think if you found the right person, it wouldn't be fickle." Meg replied. "As long as it's not a quick fling with some hot guy, of course."

"Oh God! I could _never_ have a fling with him!" Christine replied.

"HIM?" Meg questioned. "There's a _him_?"

Christine opened her mouth, then quickly closed it. "Um…No. There's no him." She turned back to her book. "There's no one. Honest. No one at all…"

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much!" Meg smirked. "Who is it? C'mon, Chrissy. I'm the best friend, right? You're supposed to tell me these things." She urged impatiently.

"Please, Meg, there's no HIM," Christine replied. "But… well… if there was… hypothetically of course… I don't think it would work. He has a lot of baggage. I'm talking serious messed up emotional baggage."

Meg furrowed her brow, "Ok, so – hypothetically, this HIM isn't Bobby the pervert, is it?"

Christine looked at her friend, eyes wide, and could not help but burst out laughing.

* * *

**Arts Building – the next night**

Erik's fingers trailed lightly over the piano before him. Normally, Christine would be here, joining the music with her voice. But the lovely little ingénue was at a movie with her pretty boy, leaving him to brood alone.

Erik began to play again, closing his eyes as a song escaped from his lips and filled the room. "_There's no time for us. There's no place for us. What is this thing that builds our dreams and slips away from us? Who wants to live forever_-"

"Oh, Erik, you're so depressing," a soft sigh interrupted from the window. Erik slowly opened his eyes. He knew Laura had been standing there. He had sensed her before she had spoken, but he just didn't find any immediate need to acknowledge her. "I'm rather upset that I cannot visit your room any more. I was hoping to catch you in the shower one night…" she pouted prettily, "But it seems every time I try to enter that building, something always pushes me back out."

"Amazing what a well-placed spell can do," he answered indifferently. "Now what do you want, Laura?" Truthfully, he didn't really care.

In a blur of blond hair and pale skin, Erik found Laura on his lap, her arms around his neck. "Oh, you know… the usual," she smirked up at him. "Only now, I've decided _not_ to kill you afterwards," she leaned forward in an attempt to kiss him, but he grasped her shoulders and pushed her off.

"_You_ will not be my first kiss!" He snapped as he jumped to his feet.

Her eyes went wide, "You've never _kissed_ a girl, Erik?" she asked. "That's incredibly sexy! Oh, just imagine what I could teach you!" She seemed overly delighted.

"I'd rather not," he replied dryly.

She placed her elegant hands on her curvy hips. "You know, beggars can't be choosers, Erik. Let's face it, you're a 30-year old virgin, and that's never going to change unless you come to _me_." She then smiled again, showing a flash of fangs. "I can give you so much! Don't you see? I can even give you eternal life!"

"An eternity of _this_?" he asked as he indicated his mask, "No thank you, Laura. I'd be happy to die a nice natural death. It will be the closest thing to _normal_ I'll ever experience."

"In _your _line of work, the term _normal _does not exist!" Laura scoffed.

"I suppose it doesn't," he said as he reached into the pocket of his duster and pulled out a sharp piece of wood. "And I should be doing my job right about now, shouldn't I?"

She took a deep breath, not overly concerned, "You could, I suppose," she said. "But then, you'll never know what danger your cute little dancing girl is in."

Erik froze. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.

"Oh, our Leader is getting annoyed with her. Curious little thing, you know. She's taken it upon herself to catch him at the DeChagny house,"

The reality of the situation suddenly hit Erik. "He's THERE? With HER?"

"Well, I could tell you more…" Laura said with a smile as she sidled up to him and reached up to slide her arms around his neck. "If you give me a kiss first. And a good one. French, preferably. I imagine you'd be a rather _ardent_ kisser with all those unfulfilled desires coursing through that lovely body of yours!" She leaned forward. "Mmm… and if you touch me with as much passion as you touch the keys on that piano, I might even-"

Erik quickly shoved Laura away and ran out of the arts building, ignoring the vampire's laughter as he raced off to find Christine.

* * *

**DeChagny Residence – Outside (later)**

Erik looked at the man who stood before him, catching him just outside the DeChagny mansion before he was able to get into his black stretched limousine and leave.

The man was the same height, the same build, had the same grace and ease of movements, had a voice that was almost exactly like Erik's. He even seemed to be the same age.

The only difference was his face – it was flawless.

Erik suddenly found himself wondering what he COULD have looked like… if things had been different.

"Who are you?" Erik demanded suspiciously.

"I believe your Guild calls me _the Leader_," the man replied coldly.

Erik's eyes went wide. How was it possible? He sensed NOTHING from this man. Not like he usually sensed from the creatures he hunted. So what WAS he?

More importantly - why would the creatures allow one that was not their own to lead them?

Erik wanted to call for backup, but he was sure the Leader would be long gone before he ever had a chance. And staking the man was obviously out of the question if he was not one of the undead.

He only had one other option. Slowly, he slid a hand inside his duster and grasped the coiled rope that rested within the inner pocket. He glanced to the left and saw Christine standing several feet away, watching him with the DeChagny boy at her side. The boy was no doubt, rather confused at the moment.

Erik let go of the coiled length of rope, keeping it hidden.

He could not do it.

He WOULD not do it.

Not in front of _her_.

"Christine," Erik began, his eyes never leaving the Leader, "If you like, I can accompany you back to Ravelle."

"I can take her back myself!" came the young DeChagny's voice.

Christine glanced back and forth between Erik, Raoul, and the Leader, nibbling at her lower lip nervously. "Um… I'll go with Erik, Raoul," she began. "He lives around there." She was purposely vague, not wanting Raoul to know HOW close Erik lived to her College Residence.

Raoul looked at her, then back at Erik, a frown on his perfectly sculpted face. "Fine. I'll call you tomorrow," he said, then made a great show of hugging Christine tightly.

_A little **too** tightly_, Erik thought angrily, debating whether or not to reach into his duster and use that rope on the boy instead.

"Well then," the Leader smiled handsomely. "I should be on my way as well,"

Erik's attention went back to the man, golden eyes narrowed suspiciously. He made a note to find out if there were any strange relatives in the Renau family. If there was some great secret that he was unaware of.

He was startled out of his thoughts as Christine slipped her hand in his, looking up at him with a sweet smile. "Shall we go?" she asked.

After getting over the momentary shock of Christine's soft warm hand in his, Erik nodded and led her away from the DeChagny mansion, and the Leader.

As he headed back to Ravelle with Christine, Erik was filled with a deep sense of foreboding and apprehension. He knew what he would have to do. It was something he was hoping to avoid. Especially after the phone call a few days ago.

But questions had to be answered.

Erik knew that he would have to confront Madeline Renau - once and for all.

**END OF EPISODE 13 **

* * *

_**Extra A/N: the song Erik is singing when Laura confronts him is "Who Wants to Live Forever" by Queen.**_


	14. Episode 14: Happy Birthday

**_A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir, aka Neko-chan! Especially for the fight scene! _**

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter**

**Episode 14: Happy Birthday  
**

By: Elektra

DeChagny Residence – Philip's study

Philip looked up from his papers when he heard the knocking, "Phil?" came the voice, "Can I come in?" the door opened just a crack to reveal his younger brother eagerly waiting.

"Hmm… yes, Ray. What is it?" Philip asked.

Raoul came in looking a little nervous. "Well, if you have time, I was wondering if you could tell me a bit about your business partner," he started. Raoul was sure there was a reason Christine was bothered by the man, and a reason her tutor had decided to take it upon himself to confront him

Philip took a deep breath. He knew this day would come. Raoul had no knowledge of the financial troubles their parents had put them in. Perhaps it was time to tell him.

Philip gestured for his brother to sit down. "Ray… our parents were not exactly wise with their money," he started. "Let's just say Mr. Shay helped us out of a rather deep hole."

Raoul was surprised. Perhaps shocked would be a better word. "Are you serious!" he asked. "What did they do?"

"Oh, this that and the next thing," Philip waved a hand dismissively. "No need to worry yourself over it. I'm more concerned about that strange man who seems to be friends with your lady."

Raoul glanced away. "She's not my lady anymore. And that strange man is her tutor. Or her friend, as she calls him," he glanced back at Philip. "And your architect," Raoul added.

Philip seemed slightly alarmed at this new information. "HIM?" he asked.

"Apparently he's multi-talented," Raoul frowned, "He's also a freak,"

"Now now, Ray," Philip scolded. "It's rather undignified to refer to other people as _freaks_,"

"It's true, Phil. Trust me on this! You haven't seen his face!" Raoul shook his head. "And he has a strange interest in your business partner." He leaned forward. "Did you notice they looked somewhat similar?" he asked.

Philip shrugged, "I didn't pay much attention."

"Well, it's enough to make _me_ wonder!" Raoul insisted, then thought of an idea.

Maybe he'd ask Erik what he knows…

* * *

**Pareau Women's Prison – the next day **

A man had come to visit her – that's what the guard had said. When Madeline asked for more information, she was told he was very tall, very polite, and very strange.

Madeline's frightened heart had skipped a beat at that, and she was quite sure it stopped completely when she saw the lean back on the other side of the glass. The inhuman grace with which he held himself, the darkness that exuded from his very body.

_Oh god… _she thought, _How did he find me?_

The man turned around ever so slowly, and Madeline saw the black leather mask on his face. She wanted to cry with relief… and happiness.

Her son finally stood before her after twenty-one years.

Erik studied her expression as he sat down and picked up the phone to speak to her. "You thought I was someone else at first, didn't you?" he accused.

"No… of course not!" She replied quickly. This was not a promising start.

"I'm nothing if not observant, Madeline," he replied.

"Oh… please, let's not argue, Erik! It's been too long!" She studied him with a proud smile. "My, you look so healthy! When you were a child, you were so skinny."

"Things change," he muttered. Truth be told, when he was fifteen, Nadir had taken to training him in Hunting techniques, telling Erik that he needed meat on his bones or he'd never survive one night against the creatures. It was amazing what healthy food, vitamins, and exercise did for a person.

"So they do," she placed the flat of her hand against the glass. "I can't believe you're actually here. You actually came to visit," she sniffled. "You have no idea how happy that makes me."

"You're _happy_ to see me?" Erik scoffed at that. "There must be one hell of a rehab program in this prison,"

"I didn't realize how much I'd miss you when they took you away, Erik," she spoke softly.

"If you truly missed me that much, you'd have sobered up and done everything in your power to get me back. Yet, you didn't," he replied. "But enough about the past. I'm here for a purpose." He leaned forward, "As I mentioned earlier, you thought I was someone else for a moment. Who is he? And don't be coy! I need to _know_, Madeline!"

She shook her head, eyes wide. "No. Please. Don't… don't make me talk about him," she said.

"Talk about WHOM?" he insisted. "Tell me! Did I have a twin brother? Because I've seen someone that is the very reflection of ME. Same age, height, build, eyes. EVERYTHING…" he put a hand to his mask. "Except _this_," he said, "_this_ is perfect! Handsome! Flawless!"

"A brother?" Madeline repeated, eyes wide. "Oh! Goodness no! I had no other children! The… the man I was speaking of would be in his _sixties _by now!"

"This man certainly wasn't in his sixties, Madeline!"

"Then I don't know who it was you saw, Erik! It certainly wasn't the person _I_'_m_ thinking of."

"Any relatives you had that may be the same age and look similar to me then?" he asked. "With a_ normal _face, at least,"

"No one. I swear!"

Erik frowned. "Very well, Madeline. I see I will not get the answers I need from you,"

He readied himself to leave when Madeline spoke again. "Erik…. please. Tell me you'll come see me again?"

He looked at her a moment, then took a deep breath. "Perhaps, Madeline. Perhaps…"

* * *

**Erik's Room **

Erik opened the door to his room slowly and saw Christine fiddling with a sharpened piece of wood. She held it up, gripped it tightly, and started doing quite the silliest little dance that, no doubt, was supposed to emulate some kind of fight.

He found it oddly amusing.

Normally, he would have been angry that someone dared enter his living quarters without permission, but he had given Christine permission. He had, in fact, called Christine's cell phone before going to talk to Madeline, and told her where the key was hidden. He informed her that she should meet him inside – lest anyone see the girl lurking around the Residence basement.

Erik had needed to talk to her where vampires – or rather, Laura – couldn't spy. He needed to inform Christine of the Leader, and the possible danger she faced going to the DeChagny place.

"Having fun playing with my toys?"

Erik's deep voice startled Christine, who cried out and nearly dropped the stake. She managed to catch it before it clattered to the ground, and then looked back at him, raising the stake up and making stabbing motions with her arm. "I could probably do this, you know,"

"No you couldn't," he answered coolly.

"Why not? How difficult could it be? You just aim the pointy part at the heart, and stab," Christine replied.

Erik suddenly spread his arms wide. "Then try it," he said.

Christine blinked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Come at me," he offered. "Aim the pointy part at the heart and stab,"

"I don't want to hurt you!" Christine protested.

Erik chuckled at that. "I doubt you'll even get close enough. Come on now," he motioned for her to attack. "Or maybe it's not as easy as you claim?" he taunted.

Christine set her jaw in determination, "Fine. Ok. I'll do it! But if you get hurt, don't blame me!" With a deep breath, she held the weapon high, and ran at him.

In a blur of black velvet, the stake was knocked out of her hand. She was suddenly forced back against the wall, her wrists pinned above her head as Erik's masked face pressed hard against her neck. "ERIK!" Christine gasped.

"You're dead," he hissed against her skin.

Christine shuddered at the unintentional brush of his lips against her pulse, her breath catching for a moment. "Erik..." she whispered softly. Christine suddenly felt his face leave her neck and looked up at him.

"Not as easy as you thought, _was_ it?" he asked.

"Huh?" Christine replied, her mind unable to form coherent thought at the moment.

"I just killed you!"

Christine blinked, "OH!" she finally realized, "You were... doing the... the vampire thing... " she swallowed nervously, a blush on her cheeks.

"Yes, Christine," he answered as he released her wrists. "What did you _think_ I was doing?"

Christine quickly shook her head. "Nothing. Nothing! You ... caught me off guard, that's all."

Erik stepped back. "They will ALWAYS catch a person off guard," he answered. "Unless it's ME, of course." Christine nodded. She should have known better. "Are you ok?" Erik asked when he noticed her absently rubbing her sore wrists.

"What? Oh... yes, I'm fine," she replied quickly.

He carefully reached out and took her tiny wrist in his hand. He turned it over and traced his fingers along the soft underside. "I hurt you," he spoke quietly as he noticed the red marks. "I'm sorry." He gently dropped her wrist and studied his hands. "I forget my strength sometimes."

"It's ok." Christine replied as she took his hand in hers and turned it back and forth, studying it carefully. "You're a walking contradiction, you know," she began as she traced his fingers with her own. He had the hands of a musician, but with the strength of a fighter. "You can be intimidating and threatening one moment, then kind and gentle the next."

She looked up at him. "I like to watch you when you play the piano, the way your fingers dance over the keys. Sometimes it doesn't even look like you touch them." She glanced away, her voice growing softer. "Sometimes I forget these same hands go out and destroy the scary monster things that go bump in the night."

"Perhaps I'm just bipolar," Erik muttered, then quickly slid his hand out of her grasp. The truth was, he did more than destroy _scary monster things_. He destroyed scary _human_ things as well. She didn't need to know that.

"Erik," Christine met his eyes a moment. "Do you know what tomorrow is?"

"Your twentieth birthday," he answered. Sometimes his ability to remember almost everything paid off. Christine had told him the date once. "I have a gift for you, but I will save it for later."

"You got me a present?" She squealed excitedly, thrilled at the prospect of a gift until she noticed the serious expression on his face. "Oh oh... what is it?"

Erik took a deep breath, then spoke. "Unrelated to your birthday, there is a reason I called you to meet me here."

"Yeah, I kind of figured," Christine sat on his bed and waited for him to continue.

He glanced at her a moment, then looked away. "There's something you should know about that man you saw at the DeChagny house…"

* * *

Ravelle College – Arts Building (the next night)

Erik looked at the tickets in his hand. Two seats in Box 5 for tomorrow's opening performance of the opera _Ariodante _at the Opera Populaire. He had meant to give them to Christine tonight… but it seemed Little Giry had surprise plans for the birthday girl.

"I KNEW I'd find you here!" came an accusatory male voice. Erik quickly pocketed the tickets and turned to the window, only to see the blond-haired, blue-eyed, well-tanned and perfect-looking boy who crawled in, "Where's Christine?"

Erik took a deep breath, "As if it is any of your business, DeChagny, she is celebrating her birthday with Little Giry at a club."

Raoul frowned, "And how do you know where she is?"

"I asked Antoinette," Erik replied simply, then studied Raoul. "You DID know it was her birthday, didn't you?" he asked.

Raoul opened his mouth, then closed it, looking somewhat embarrassed. "What are you, some kind of stalker?" he accused, attempting to save face. "What ELSE do you know about Christine?"

"Whatever she chooses to tell me," he replied. "And why did you feel the need to come barreling over here looking for her?"

"I wanted to ask her something…" he replied, "Well… I wanted to ask YOU something through HER since I try to avoid you as much as possible." He then narrowed his eyes. "I hate that she spends more free time with you then with me!"

He shrugged. "Perhaps because I actually know her date of birth," he glanced at Raoul, "Funny how that works, considering YOU are the one in a relationship with her!"

"Not anymore," Raoul muttered as he sat on a chair nearby. "Chrissy gave me the _let's be friends_ speech. Said there were other things she wanted to do first before she got all serious." He then turned to Erik suspiciously, "I don't suppose YOU had anything to do with that?"

"I do not meddle in Christine's love life," Erik replied, though would not deny he was rather pleased with this news. "If you will excuse me, DeChagny, I am busy composing. I would like peace and quiet!" He then studied the boy a moment, "Unless you wish to ask me what it was you were going to get _Christine _to ask me,"

Raoul took a deep breath, then finally spoke. "That man at my house last week…" he began, "How do you know him?"

"I don't," Erik replied. "Though I must say he intrigues me,"

"Did you notice he looks a lot like you… except NORMAL?" Raoul asked.

"Yes, DeChagny, I noticed," Erik frowned. "What is your point?"

"Is he a relative?"

"Apparently not, or so my mother told me."

Raoul's eyes went wide, "You have a mother?"

Erik scowled, arms crossed. "No, DeChagny. Hell spit me out of its foul depths fully grown!"

Raoul seemed to believe that for a moment, but quickly realized Erik was being sarcastic, "Well, whatever your mother said, the man reminded me of you a little too much. And I'd like you to find out more information about him."

"Oh, I WILL find out more information about him – for my own reasons. But why should I share it with YOU?" he asked.

"I'll pay you," Raoul said.

"I make quite a decent living, DeChagny. I don't need your money," Erik replied.

Raoul was quiet for a moment, then thought of another plan. "For Christine then," he said. "For her safety."

Erik narrowed his eyes, interested now. "Did something happen I'm not aware of?"

Raoul shrugged. "It's just… when she was at my house – when she first saw him – she seemed a little freaked out."

"Because he looked like ME," Erik explained.

Raoul shook his head, "No. It was more then that. She didn't notice, but I saw her shaking a little when she was talking to me about him." A pause. "And every time he comes over, my brother always bugs me to marry Christine and run away with her," Raoul then looked slightly guilty. "It's one of the reasons I proposed." He looked up at Erik, "Well, that and the fact I didn't want her to be around you anymore. I don't think you're very trustworthy!"

Erik let out a harsh laugh. "And now, here you come, asking for my help! How does crow taste, DeChagny?"

"I'm not looking for your HELP, just your INFORMATION!" Raoul insisted. "You seem the type that would have some shady means of getting it!"

As if on cue, Erik's cell phone rang. He saw the caller ID and sighed, "Yes?"

"I've got an assignment for you. Quarry was spotted at the Aleran night club," came Giry's voice on the other line.

"Can someone else not take care of that?" Erik asked.

"It's the club Christine went to," Giry replied.

That was all the answer he needed.

"I have to go," Erik shut off his cell phone and returned it to his belt holder. "Go home, DeChagny," Erik said as he stood up and slipped out the window.

"You know where she is, don't you?" Raoul shouted out as he quickly followed.

"GO HOME!" Erik hissed as he sped up.

"No. If you're going to see Christine, I'm coming with!"

Erik immediately stopped walking and spun on him, grasping Raoul's neck with one hand and squeezing just enough to frighten the boy. "I SAID…" his voice was low and dangerous now, his grip growing tight enough to make Raoul's eyes fill with fear. "GO. HOME! If Christine wishes to contact you, she WILL!" He threw Raoul to the ground and continued on.

Raoul put a hand to his sore throat, coughing to catch his breath. After a few moments, he stumbled back to his feet and chased after Erik.

He'd be damned if he was going to let that insane masked man get to Christine before him.

* * *

**Aleran Nightclub**

Erik watched as the creature came out of the nightclub, a stumbling Christine slumped against him. It stopped and looked up at Erik, saw the Hunter's instinct in his eyes. "And what were you planning on doing with this girl?" Erik asked, "Enjoy her body before you killed her?"

Christine's dazed eyes looked up at the dark-clad man before her, "Erik?" she began, "Wha… wha're you doin'here?" Her words were noticeably slurred.

"Christine!" Came Raoul's concerned voice as he breathlessly caught up to Erik.

"DAMN IT, DeChagny!" Erik hissed, not appreciating the over-zealous boy, "I TOLD you to go home!"

"CHRISSY!" Meg shouted out as she bolted out of the nightclub. Seeing the two males before her, she suddenly felt a rush of relief.

Christine had left the dance floor with the strange man beside her, and Meg had not been fast enough to stop it. She feared what would happen, considering Christine was unsteady on her feet.

"Take the girls and go, DeChagny," Erik interrupted coldly, not tearing his eyes away from his quarry.

"Was THIS your plan, Meg? To get Chrissy drunk and laid by some pervert?" Raoul accused.

"DeChagny!" Erik hissed, "I am sure that was _not_ Little Giry's intent! But I WOULD appreciate if you escorted the ladies HOME!" He met Raoul's eyes. "NOW!" he commanded.

Raoul sensed the threat of bodily harm if he did not listen. He quickly nodded and went up to Christine, supporting the brunette between himself and Meg as the three quickly headed off.

"You've ruined all my fun now," the creature began once the others were gone.

"Really?" Erik's voice was low and dangerous when he spoke. "Because _my _fun is just starting!"

Erik steadied himself, watching the creature steel its body against what it knew to be a fight to the death. Erik stepped forward, simultaneously reaching into his duster to grab the new stake he'd carved earlier that evening. Palming it, he had barely revealed it when the creature lunged forward. Erik sidestepped, easily avoiding its clumsy advance.

"Very elegant of you," Erik mocked.

The creature aimed a fist at Erik's head. Erik blocked the shot and countered with backhand to the jaw.

"Why did you target her?" His left fist connected with the creature's throat, disabling it momentarily. The creature stumbled backwards and Erik slammed him against the brick wall.

"She's delicious, you know," the creature hissed. "That skin is so soft."

A quick knee to the groin silenced the creature, and Erik smirked for a second, then sobered to its words. "How the hell would you know that?"

The creature grinned. "I tasted it. Not the blood, of course. The flesh. It was salty and sweet. She let me caress her-"

The stake was aimed at the creature's heart before Erik could learn exactly what part of Christine's body it claimed to have polluted.

The creature's fist connected with Erik's ribcage, and Erik countered by grabbing its collar and forcing it to the ground. He balled his fist and slammed it into the creature's jaw twice. Erik then grabbed its shirtfront and hurled it against the brick wall again for good measure. He slapped its face just to humiliate.

"She would have never _looked_ at you if you hadn't poisoned her."

The creature licked a bit a blood off its lip and tried to maintain a sense of ferocity. "She wanted it," the creature wheezed. "She wanted me…she was hungry for my touch."

"You're lying!" Erik snapped, then saw something out of the corner of his eye as he pinned the creature beneath him.

A man. Tall, imposing. He was watching.

The Leader.

With a graceful swipe of his arm, Erik dusted the vampire, then jumped to his feet, racing over to the Leader before he could disappear.

"Who are you?" Erik demanded.

The Leader simply smirked, "Your skills are quite impressive. But then, I would expect no less from you."

Erik narrowed his eyes, "What are you talking about?" The man continued to smile, only angering Erik that much more. "Explain yourself! You are not like _them_," he indicated the pile of dust behind him.

"How do you know? Oh… because you cannot _sense_ me, is that right?" he laughed, "Do you not think that perhaps there is ANOTHER explanation for that? Think on it now…"

"I don't have time for your riddles. What ARE you?" Erik demanded.

"How is Madeline, Erik?" the man asked.

"Madeline?" Erik asked suspiciously, "And how do you know of her?"

The man shrugged, "I know a lot of things about you," he said.

"What's your name!" The masked hunter demanded.

"My name? Oh, I've had many over the years. Currently, I'm known as Mr. Shay," he shrugged. "Call me what you wish." He then backed into the shadows, and disappeared, leaving Erik standing alone.

* * *

Erik headed back to campus, annoyed and frustrated with the little information he could get from the Leader. 

He froze when he saw Christine on her hands and knees in a patch of grass not far away from the club. Meg and Raoul were gently rubbing her back, looking concerned. "Did she get sick?" he asked as he came up to them.

Meg jumped at the voice and turned to face him. "Yeah... and she keeps stumbling. I'm not strong enough to keep her up,"

Erik glanced at Raoul. "And you? Are you not strong enough either!"

Raoul frowned. "What am I supposed to do, carry her in my arms?" he asked. "All the way back to campus?"

Erik sighed, then reached into the pocket of his duster and grabbed his wallet, pulling out a crisp bill, handing it to Meg. "About a block up is a variety store. Get her a bottle of water." Meg nodded as she took the money Erik offered her, then headed off.

"Wha'happen'd?" Christine asked as Erik took Meg's place beside her. If Christine had been feeling better, she would have been amused at the two men in her life on either side of her.

"My guess is that you drank too much," he said.

"But'all I had wasss'few glasssses'cola! Thisss nice man'kep' buyin'em for me, and... "

"You let some strange guy buy you drinks?" Raoul exclaimed.

"COLA!" Christine insisted, then frowned. "Though they DID taste'a lil'weird,"

Erik groaned inwardly. How naïve _was_ this girl? "They were spiked, Christine," Erik replied. "And you obviously have a low tolerance. No doubt that _thing_ wanted to do more then just make a meal out of you."

Christine shivered. "So _tha's _what he wasss'. I wonder'd why'you'were lurking'round."

Raoul looked between them. "_Thing_?" he asked.

"He's gone, if that helps any," Erik replied, and Christine knew what he meant by _gone_. He was then silent for a moment, his voice quiet when he spoke again, "I may not have had a reason to be there, Christine. I wouldn't have been able to help you under _different _circumstances."

"I know," she replied softly, "I... I tol'him I wasssn't int'rested, but he _insisssted_,"

"Ok, what am I missing here?" Raoul asked as he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"NEVER allow a stranger to buy you _anything _you ingest!" Erik replied sharply, ignoring Raoul.

Christine closed her eyes. "Shhhhh... you're loud," she groaned as a sharp pain shot through her skull. "M'head hurts,"

From the look on Raoul's face, Erik was sure the boy was on the verge of having a hissy-fit, not getting the attention he seemed to want so desperately.

"I can pretty much guarantee you won't wake up happy tomorrow morning," Erik said to Christine.

Meg then returned, water in hand. She quickly gave the bottle to Christine, and gave Erik his change back. The brunette took the beverage and sipped it slowly.

After a few moments, Erik took the bottle from her and stood up, holding out his free hand, "Come now. You need to sleep this off," Christine grasped his outstretched hand and collapsed against him, her legs feeling like jello. "You'll never make it like that," he muttered as he adjusted his grip on her.

"Here," Raoul reached out to support her other side, but Erik handed Meg the water instead, then literally swept Christine off her feet, cradling the dizzy girl in his arms.

Raoul could only stare and blink at that, "You're going to carry her all the way back?"

"She is only a little thing, DeChagny," Erik then frowned, "Though perhaps you are too weak to lift her!" He looked towards Meg, "Little Giry?" Meg came forward, waiting eagerly. "Grab her purse," Meg nodded and did so. "Let's go then,"

Christine closed her eyes and rested her head against Erik's chest, her hand fisting his duster gently. "You sssmell nice," she slurred softly.

Raoul scoffed, and Erik glanced at him. "You never say _I_ smell nice," he muttered.

"Perhaps there's a reason for that," Erik snarked.

"Yeah, she's wasted tonight." Raoul needled.

Erik ignored the comment and looked back at the girl in his arms. She felt so soft. So warm…

He shook the thoughts out of his head and took a deep breath, then headed off with Meg in tow - Raoul rushing to catch up as the group made their way back to campus.

* * *

**Ravelle College – Christine's Dorm room **

Erik gently lay Christine down on her bed, having lost Raoul somewhere along the way.

"Little Giry," he called out. Meg came up to him. He was finding her obedience rather amusing tonight. "Help her change into more suitable clothing when I leave," he replied. "If you're concerned about anything," Erik continued, "She has my number in her cell phone. Give me a call." He sat down on the edge of Christine's bed and spoke to her. "I suggest you stay away from nightclubs for a while. _Forever_, ideally."

Christine reached a hand out and grasped the front of Erik's shirt, pulling herself into a sitting position. "I sssstill feel funny," she said.

"Tired?" he asked.

"Spacey," she answered.

He tilted her chin up and studied her eyes. They were glassy, "Yes, you're still very intoxicated," he answered, "It'll take a few hours for it to wear off."

Erik made to get up but Christine clutched his shoulders desperately. "Don'go!"

"You need to rest," he said.

Christine suddenly traced her fingers over his mask before sinking them gently into his hair, "Birth'day kissssss? I'm twenty t'day!" she smiled, then giggled drunkenly afterwards.

"CHRISSY!" Meg gasped.

_What woman would ever want to kiss **you**?_ An unpleasant memory invaded Erik's thoughts.

Madeline's words still stung after all these years. More than the hard slap that had accompanied them. It was the first - and last - time he had ever asked the woman for a motherly kiss.

Funny how a drunk Christine treated him so very differently then a drunk Madeline…

"She MUST be out of it. She thinks you're ME!" The newly-arrived Raoul spoke from the doorway. He was breathless and more then a little disheveled, having practically run the last ten minutes trying to catch up to the others. Erik had slunk through alleys, and behind buildings. Raoul was quite sure the strange man had been trying to lose him on purpose.

Christine furrowed her brow, then glanced at the door. "Raoul? Why're you here? Go home…"

"Well, she can't be _that_ drunk," Erik scoffed. "She knows enough to be annoyed by YOUR presence."

"Christine!" Raoul protested. "If you want a birthday kiss, _I_ can give you one!"

Christine looked back at Raoul. "You didn'even'member it wassss my birth'day!" she slurred, then turned her attention to Erik once again. "At least Erik hasss'a pres'nt for me!" she furrowed her brow. "You said you'd give me your pres'nt _tonight_," she then smiled again. "Birth'day kissssss?" she repeated.

Erik met Christine's eyes, his voice cold. "I will cut you some slack because you are intoxicated, but I take NO humour in your little _joke_!" he hissed, then grasped her shoulders and pushed her back down on the bed. "Goodnight!"

Before she could grab him again, he jumped to his feet and turned to Meg. "Give her these when she's sober!" he ordered, handing Meg the tickets for _Ariodante_. "Maybe she can take her pretty boyfriend!"

Erik angrily left the room, shoving roughly past Raoul.

"Someone has issues," Raoul muttered once Erik was gone, then sat beside Christine. He glanced at her, noticing her forlorn expression. "What's wrong?"

The brunette pouted, her voice child-like when she spoke. "It wasn't a_ joke_..." A pause, then. "Is he mad at me?"

"He's just _mad_, period," Raoul replied frowning.

"Why're you'so mean t'him?" Christine asked.

"I'm not mean!" he answered. "I just don't trust him near you."

"He'won'do any'thin'. He'ssss'a gen'l'man…"

_Gentleman_, Raoul thought. _A gentleman doesn't wrap a hand around a man's throat and toss him to the ground!_

Raoul was quite sure there was a dark side to Erik that Christine would never know…

**

* * *

Erik's room – the next night **

With a weary sigh, Erik stood up to answer the insistent knock at his door. "WHAT?" he demanded as he yanked the door open. One look at whom waited there, however, found the man unable to breathe.

Christine stood before him, a shy smile on her lips. "Hey…" she started. "Um, I… I want to thank you for the tickets to the opera," she seemed nervous for a moment. "Is… is this the right gown to wear?" she asked.

Erik could only look at her... and the black satin gown that clung to her form perfectly. "I've never been to a real opening performance," Christine continued, "… and I hear the Populaire is really high class."

"You look… beautiful…" he replied quietly.

Christine smiled, but one look at him, and the smile faded, "Why aren't you dressed up yet?"

"Why would I dress up?" he asked.

"Because we're going to the opera!" Christine pointed out.

"Those tickets were for whomever you wanted to go with, Christine. Not me."

Christine raised an eyebrow, "But YOU'RE the one I want to go with!" She then walked into the room. "Can I check your closet?" she asked. "No dead things in there, right?"

"No… but…"

She opened the door, ignoring him. "Let's see… black jeans… black jeans… black jeans… oh! Black dress trousers," She tugged those out and tossed them on the bed. "And… ok, this is cool!" She pulled out a long black cloak that had been stuffed in the back. "And where did you get THIS?" She pulled down a black fedora from the shelf above and dusted it off.

"Christine, listen-I don't think I'd be the best person to-"

"Oh wow, this is so nineteenth century of you!" She pulled out a black vest and black tailcoat. Last but not least, she went to his dresser and found a pressed white shirt while sifting through the drawers. It was far in the back, beneath numerous black t-shirts and tank tops. "Ok! Get dressed! We're going to be late!"

One look at the excited girl before him, and he knew he could not refuse. She was his weakness. His ONLY weakness. "Very well," he sighed. "I will be ready shortly…" Erik grabbed the clothing and headed into the bathroom – a door on the left that almost looked like part of the wall.

He briefly wondered if he would regret this later…

END OF EPISODE 14


	15. Episode 15: A Night at the Opera

**_A/N: As always, a Super-Special thanks to my beta, Neko-chan:) _**

I also want to thank my reviewers! Your feedback is very much appreciated!

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter**

**Episode 15: A Night at the Opera **

By: Elektra

**Pareau Women's Prison**

Madeline jumped at the banging of her bars. "I was informed you've got a visitor again," the female prison guard began as she opened the door. "You've gotten pretty damned popular lately."

"My son and I have been trying to work things out..." Madeline offered by way of explanation. "I wasn't the best mother to him,"

"Yeah, that son of yours. Saw him when he came to visit. Nice ass. Shame he hides his face..." the guard smirked then reached into the cell and guided Madeline to the visitor's area.

Madeline was overjoyed as she came into the room. He stood with his back to her, but there was no question who he was. "ERIK!" she called out happily. Perhaps the past could be mended after all.

Her enthusiastic voice, muffled through the glass, reached his ears.

The man turned around slowly, the cold smirk on his pale lips turning Madeline's warm enthusiasm into icy fear.

She sunk down on the chair behind the glass, finding herself unable to look away from the beautifully flawless face before her.

_No... _

_...Oh god no!_

* * *

**Theatre Populaire - Box 5**

"I can't believe RJ's dad manages this place! I wonder if he could get me and Meg a job when we graduate," Christine started as she and Erik entered Box 5.

"I am sure you can get a job without help. You have the talent," Erik replied.

She smiled at him and blushed. She then sunk down into the lush velvet seat. "Nice!" she breathed, "Very nice!"

"At least it's private in here," he muttered as his eyes darted around their dark little corner of the Populaire. He adjusted the fedora on his head, making sure it was low enough to shadow the mask upon his face.

"Erik?" Christine began, "You're supposed take your hat _off_ when you're inside,"

He glanced at her. "Oh well then... maybe I should make myself even more obvious then I already _am_!" he indicated his clothing - vintage nineteenth century, complete with black opera cloak.

"But you look GREAT!" Christine insisted, her own outfit a modern evening gown of black silk, "All gothic and mysterious!" She paused. "Though maybe you should buy yourself a proper suit sometime soon."

"I knew it," he muttered.

"Shhh. The lights are dimming..." she said, her silken-gloved hand automatically sliding over his leather-gloved one. Erik glanced down at their entwined fingers. Just the pressure of her hand was nice. He even felt a strange twitch at the corners of his lips. Was he possibly smiling?

After a few moments, Erik was finally able to pull his attention away from the beautiful girl beside him and focus on the stage.

The orchestra started up, and the show began. Christine glanced over at Erik, and was surprised to see him lip-synching the words. He seemed to know the entire libretto by heart... though really, that didn't surprise her. He probably knew a lot of things by heart.

He suddenly stopped when Polinesso - the villain of the piece - came on stage. Christine felt his hand clenching the armrest beneath her fingers and glanced over at him. "Erik?"

"Last I checked," he hissed dangerously, "Polinesso doesn't die until the _end_ of the story!"

"What are you talking about? And... thanks for spoiling the ending for me," she pouted.

He looked at her. "I... oh... Forgive me. It's just..." he indicated the man on stage. "He should be a pile of dust!"

Christine's eyes went wide. "OH! He's one of them?"

Erik stood up. "Stay here. I need to do something..."

Christine nodded as Erik quickly left the box.

* * *

**Manager's office **

Firmin and André sat in their office counting their take for the night, tallying up the credit card, debit card, and cash purchases. "What a successful showing!" André clapped his hands happily.

Firmin frowned. "I just hope people aren't too upset about our Polinesso being understudied."

André waved away Firmin's concern. "No need to worry. Our understudy is quite good,"

"And quite DEAD!" A voice added. Firmin and André jumped as a tall, black-clad man burst into their office.

"I'm sorry, sirs! I tried to stop him!" came the distraught secretary behind him.

The two managers needed to take only one look at the man before them to know who it was. "That's okay, Marguerite," André began, "He's an acquaintance of ours." The woman looked nervous for a moment, glanced up at the intruder then headed back out, closing the door behind her.

"Erik?" Firmin began. "I didn't know you were coming tonight!"

"I didn't know you were in the business of hiring the undead," Erik replied. Firmin and André seemed confused for a moment. "You didn't notice?" Erik asked. "Your Polinesso!"

"Oh!" Firmin gasped, bringing a hand to his mouth, "Yes, André and I were just talking about him. Our lead did not show up tonight."

Erik frowned. "I will wager he's become a victim of professional jealousy and inhuman hunger," he muttered.

André looked about ready to tear out his hair. "Oh... what are we going to do? We ... we can't just stop the show!" He paced nervously back and forth. "A full house, Firmin! We can't refund a full house!"

"You're worried about _money_ when your entire cast could be in danger?" Erik hissed angrily. "If Polinesso catches one of them backstage..." he let the sentence trail, but André and Firmin understood his meaning.

"Right, right, of course!" Firmin replied.

There was a gentle knocking at the door. "Sirs?" the door opened slowly, the secretary poking her head in.

"What is it, Marguerite?" André asked.

"There's a girl here. Said her ... uh... _date_..." she glanced up at Erik, "... went missing?"

André and Firmin looked at Erik, eyes widening in disbelief. "DATE?" André gasped, both men rather surprised that Erik would even _have _a date.

"Christine..." Erik groaned, "Damn it!"

"Little Meg's best friend?" Firmin sputtered. "Oh my, Erik! I sensed there was _something_ between you two at the Christmas dinner... but THAT?"

"It's not like that!" Erik insisted. He studied the two men before him, "Just so you know - Christine knows everything about THEM," he began quietly so that Marguerite wouldn't hear, "She just doesn't know everything about ME." His warning was clear in his voice. No mention of the _Executioner_ was to be made.

The two men nodded. "Let her in then," Firmin ordered Marguerite. The young lady nodded, and Christine walked in somewhat shyly, Marguerite closing the door as she exited. "Hello, Christine dear!" Firmin said warmly.

"Um, hey, Monsieur Firmin," Christine smiled, "I... I didn't mean to interrupt... but..." she looked up at Erik, "I was getting a little worried..." she glanced nervously at the two men before her, unsure how much to give away.

"I told you to stay in your seat, Christine," Erik replied.

How would he explain this? He could not think of a plausible excuse to hide the fact that Firmin and André were part of the Guild.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd be here talking to them," she said, "I thought you'd be lurking backstage or something. And... the first act is over-" she quickly stopped.

Erik took a deep breath. "They know, Christine," he said outright. "Like Nadir, we work together on occasion."

Christine furrowed her brow. "Is this like some big organization or something?"

"It's _something_. A very _secret_ something which you were never supposed to find out about in the first place," Erik said.

Christine nodded. "I'm sorry about that..." she said, then bit her lip nervously. "Um, what are you going to do?" she asked.

"What else _can_ we do, dear?" Firmin replied, hands outstretched. "We must cancel the next two acts and refund the tickets. We cannot let our Polinesso continue endangering our cast, and we have no one to replace him once we get _rid_ of him!"

"Erik can replace him!" Christine offered eagerly. "He knows all the words. I saw him lip-synching."

"Christine!" Erik hissed angrily. "Are you insane?"

"Now wait..." Firmin seemed to consider this. "I heard your voice at Antoinette's. It's _beautiful _Erik. You have such an incredible talent. Why have you never used it?" Firmin asked. "It would be perfect for Ariodante. But since HE is not the danger, then you would make a very impressive Polinesso."

André seemed surprised. "Erik can sing?"

"Oh yes! Very well!" Firmin answered.

"Richard!" Erik growled. It was the first time he had addressed Firmin by his first name... and it meant he was annoyed. "What am I supposed to do? Go on stage with _this_," he indicated the mask. "I am not sure that would go over very well!"

Firmin shrugged. "We can explain that we took artistic license." He turned to André. "See if you can find a mask to fit Polinesso's costume. Why, it would be so very fitting that our villain wears a mask!"

"No. NO!" Erik insisted. "I will get rid of the threat, and then I will go home."

"Erik! You have a date," André pointed out, indicating Christine. "It's rather inconsiderate of you to make her miss the next two acts."

Christine looked up at him. "Can it be part of my birthday present?" she asked eagerly.

"This was for her birthday?" Firmin asked. "Well then, you MUST do it. For her, if no one else!"

"NO!" Erik shouted angrily. "Discussion over! I will do what I must, then LEAVE!" He stormed out of the room before Firmin, André, or Christine could say any more.

* * *

Back Hallway

Christine searched for any signs of someone in trouble. Surely if one of _them_ had taken over the role, then the poor lead must be tied up or locked in a closet, or some such thing.

The hallway was dark, lit only by half the lighting available, no doubt to cut down on electric costs. This hallway lead to the Theatre's dormitories, for those who had taken it upon themselves to live there.

She crept down the hall, listening for any sound. Surely, even if he was gagged, he could make some kind of noise. "Hello..." she called out. "If you can hear me, move or try to talk." Silence met her plea, but a metallic smell pervaded her senses.

She kept walking, straining to make out more details in the poor lighting. A light bulb popped and Christine spun around, taking three awkward steps backwards. As she turned back around, her foot caught on something hard and she fell forward. Barely catching herself, she turned over on the ground to see a mass on the floor behind her. She choked on the smell and pulled her feet underneath her.

"Mister?" Christine reached a hand out to the body before her. She shook the pants leg, and the body fell towards her. The neck was almost gone, gnawed on as if by an animal. Whatever attacked this man meant to make him suffer, not just die. The skin was pasty and bluish-white. His eyes were unfocused and almost milky; dried blood caked around his eyes and the corners of his mouth.

Christine wanted to cry, or scream, but most of all she wanted to shut his eyes forever.

* * *

**Backstage**

Erik walked around slowly, hand at the inner pocket of his cloak wrapped around the stake. He saw Polinesso heading off to the right, following a young ballet girl. Erik quickly followed. "You're fired..." he said when he found himself behind the creature in the hallway.

The creature spun around, eyes wide. Before anyone happened upon the scene, Erik turned It to dust... seconds before the ballet girl made her way back. He tipped his hat politely to her, kicking the dust away with the toe of his boot. She eyed him warily, but continued on her way.

"Erik!" a voice called out behind him. He turned to see Firmin behind him, breathless. "We found our lead," he swallowed nervously, "Or rather... your date did. She... went exploring. Found him down a hallway slumped in a dark corner. Dead." He took a nervous breath, "She was very distraught..."

"Take me to her!" Erik commanded, and Firmin quickly led the way.

* * *

**Manager's Office**

The moment Erik entered the room, Christine came flying at him. She threw her arms around his torso and pressed her face against his shirt, her breathing quick and unsteady. He could feel her trembling against him, "Oh god... it was awful!" she cried, "His... his face... it... white! Dead white! And... the smell... it... it... horrible... I... that poor man!"

"Christine, calm down," Erik began, his voice low and soothing. It wasn't helping. He took a deep breath and did something he had never done to another human being - he slid his arms around the shaking girl and simply held her. Offering comfort was not something he was familiar with, but in this instance he knew it was needed. Christine was near passing out from hysterics. If he let her go now, she would most likely fall.

She did not push him away.

"How do you do it?" Christine gasped, clutching at the back of his tailcoat desperately, "How?"

"Because I am not like you, Christine," He spoke gently, "I am used to such things." He leaned his head down and rested his chin against her temple. "Easy now. You're hyperventilating." He was surprised to find how easily her little body relaxed against him. He then took a deep breath and began to hum a soft soothing melody only she could hear.

Erik's voice was warm. Reassuring. He long ago had been made aware of the effect he had on people using this precious instrument, and now he took full advantage of it.

He tugged off his gloves and dropped them to the ground, still holding Christine as he continued humming. He heard her breathing slow, felt her trembling ease.

When Christine was calm enough, he let go of her. With careful fingers, he tilted her chin up, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing at her mascara-stained cheeks and eyes. "André, Firmin! Get her a glass of cold water," he ordered.

"Yes! Of course," André replied, and quickly headed out with Firmin to do so, both realizing Erik wanted to talk to the girl alone.

"Are you calm now?" Erik asked Christine as he focused on her once again.

She swallowed hard, then nodded her head, "Yeah... I think... I think I'll be ok..."

"Good," he replied, then boldly pressed his forehead against hers, graceful fingers gently stroking her cheeks. "I apologize, Christine. If it was not for me, you never would have been involved in that," his voice was full of regret when he spoke. "In fact, if it was not for me, you never would have been involved in _a lot_ of things,"

"Erik..." Christine started, eyes closing agreeably as she reached out to embrace him once more.

"I should get ready," he interrupted as he stepped away from Christine, causing her empty arms to fall back to her sides.

"Ready?" She opened her eyes, blinking in surprise.

"Yes. The show has been delayed long enough. They need a Polinesso, and I think it would be... intriguing... to see what kind of reaction I receive," he said.

"You'll do it then?" Firmin's excited voice came from the door and he and André returned with Christine's water.

Erik let out a sigh, "Yes, Richard. I will do it!"

"Oh Erik!" Christine clapped her hands together gleefully. "I can't wait to see you!"

That was just the reaction he was hoping for. It was the real reason why he had suddenly decided to perform in public - something he had never done before. He was uncomfortable enough just _walking_ in public.

However, Erik would rather Christine end the night with happy thoughts than have the poor girl sit in her dorm stewing over the unfortunate finding that had left her so distraught.

Firmin seemed overjoyed himself. "André, see Miss Daaé back to her seat. I will properly prepare Erik for the next two acts," he said, and immediately led the reluctant masked-man away.

* * *

Pareau Women's Prison

"Ah, my dear sweet Madeline. How have you been?" The Leader asked as he picked up the phone on the other side of the glass.

Madeline could only look at him.

"Take the phone, my dear. It's rude to simply stare like that."

Madeline did not even realize she was obeying until she had the phone to her ear. It had always been this way. One look in his eyes, and he had her. He controlled her.

"You... haven't aged," she gasped, "In... in over thirty years... you haven't _aged_!"

"Oh, I have," he insisted, "I just aged much gracefully then YOU, obviously." He eyed her graying blond hair and the crows feet that decorated the corners of her eyes. "Though I must admit, it is difficult for someone like me to SHOW his age," he sighed wistfully. "Ah, you mortals. I forgot how you only have a certain number of good years in you,"

"Us... _mortals_?" she asked, "I..." she stopped as a sudden realization hit her, "What... what are you?"

"Someone who's been around a very long time," he replied. "Are you telling me after all this time, you never knew?" he then leaned forward, "Are you telling me you did not wonder why I was able to fulfill ever lusty female desire you ever had?" He seemed incredulous. "Why, my dear Madeline, surely in your... uh... former _line of work_, you knew it was rare - nay, impossible - to find a man who could do such things."

He leaned back smugly. "Why, I'm sure most of your clients just took their own pleasure and left you wanting." He raised an eyebrow. "But _I_ never left you wanting, did I? I remember how much you enjoyed every little rendezvous! You didn't even ask for payment!" He then smirked a cold, arrogant smirk. "Oh, but I DID leave you with a little gift, didn't I?"

"I took all the necessary precautions!" She cried out, "But... you! How? How did you do that?"

"Accidents do happen," he replied.

Madeline's eyes went wide, "You bastard!" she hissed. "You planned it! Somehow... somehow you planned it! And then... LEFT ME!"

"Oh really now... were you honestly expecting me to _marry _you?" he laughed. "Silly Madeline... such a foolish little girl you were." He sighed. "I'll come back to visit tomorrow. Perhaps you'll be in a better mood then,"

Without another word, the Leader stood up and left.

**

* * *

****Backstage**

Erik looked in the mirror before him, his mask now matching the costume he was wearing. It was better then nothing, at least.

Firmin and André had come up with a wonderful excuse for why the rest of the show had to be performed by an unknown - as the story went, the lead had run off, and their understudy took ill after the first act.

Firmin and André explained that they would have had to delay the show even longer if they were to call in someone else to take over. Since the managers had a friend who was rather talented, and knew the libretto by heart, why not allow him to perform?

It was a good enough tale to acquire a reluctant understanding from the rest of the cast and crew.

Erik's thoughts were interrupted as the audio operator came up to him, offering him a small piece of plastic. "You'll hear the stage manager through this," The man explained. "It just fits in your ear like so," he showed Erik, then handed the odd contraption to him.

Erik understood. He knew nothing of the blocking or direction for this performance. This earpiece would allow him to pretend he knew what he was doing.

Erik quickly slid the plastic in his ear and found it molded to the shape quite well. Once he was satisfied all was in order, the audio operator left.

After one last glance in the mirror, Erik allowed himself a long shaky breath, then headed out.

Into the Lion's Den I go...

* * *

**Box 5**

Christine read the synopsis in the playbill before her:

_  
Act II, Scene 4:  
Polinesso is with Dalinda, currently pretending to be Ginerva - in an attempt to trick Ariodante into thinking his lover is unfaithful._

Christine watched the scene play out before her, cheering rather loudly as Erik entered stage right.

She didn't care that she was drawing attention to herself. This was the only time she would ever see Erik on stage like this, sharing his beautiful gift with the world.

**

* * *

****On stage**

"Ok, now walk up to her slowly, start touching the shoulders and everything above," came the stage manager's voice in Erik's ear. The masked man was hesitant a moment. For someone not used to touching women, the stage manager was asking him to all but feel-up the actress on stage.

But Erik did not have the option to protest. His eyes shifted to the left, taking in the audience. Then he slid his eyes upward, seeing Christine sitting there, waiting.

Things had to go smoothly, even if it meant Erik would be made rather uncomfortable.

_Pretend it's Christine..._ a voice said in the back of his head.

Erik closed his eyes, took a calming breath, then opened his eyes again.

The woman before him was now a lovely little ballet student with dark curls and bright blue eyes.

At least it made the acting a little bit easier...

* * *

**Box 5**

Christine watched as Polinesso slowly sidled up to Dalinda, long graceful fingers tracing the woman's face, lips, neck, stroking her cheek... _just like he stroked mine earlier..._Christine thought.

When Erik finally sang, his voice was as seductive as Christine had ever heard it, sending a rush of heat through her body and setting her cheeks aflame.

"_Se i rimproveri miei a queste spoglie sol diretti udisti..._"

Polinesso's elegant hands slid over Dalinda's shoulders and down her back as he brought his lips close to her ear. Dalinda, for her part, looked enraptured, her eyes half-closed, lips parted, face flushed.

Christine leaned forward in her seat, a small frown on her lips. Funny... the actress didn't seem as captivated when it was someone ELSE playing the part.

"..._udirai qui avante tenerezze d'amor, sensi d'amante_..." Polinesso continued, smoothly sauntering around Dalinda until he was in front of her again.

He reached forward and grasped her hips, tugging her body against his. Dalinda leaned her head back as Polinesso continued to sing.

Dalinda's hands reached up to caress his chest, his arms, his neck and shoulders. Her eyes were fully closed now.

Christine clutched at the arms of her chair, her mouth clenched so tightly she was beginning to feel her jaw cramp. _How dare she! _Christine thought, _She's all but THROWING herself at him. In front of all these people, no less! That CAN'T be in the script! Get your hands off Erik, you little hussy!_

Christine was taken aback by the vehemence of her own thoughts.

She chalked it up to anger on Erik's behalf and soon found herself rattling off some rather impolite words directed at the actress playing Dalinda.

* * *

**Ravelle College - outside Residence (later)**

"I hope you enjoyed your evening, Christine," Erik said as they stopped in front of Ravelle College Residence. He pulled something out from inside his cloak - a red rose - and held it out to her, bowing politely.

Christine smiled and took it from him, mindful of the thorns. No doubt he had gathered many of these after his performance - which apparently went over so well with the audience that Firmin and André took it in their minds to offer him a contract.

Erik had adamantly refused.

"Can we go to the opera again?" she asked hopefully.

He shrugged. "I'll ask Firmin and André for a list of what they plan for the rest season, and you let me know how many tickets you need."

Christine furrowed her brow. "I said WE, Erik. As in... you and me... which would automatically equal TWO."

"Christine..." Erik began. "Please. I have no wish to repeat tonight's performance. You may ask Meg or DeChagny."

Christine crossed her arms and pouted. "Oh for heaven's sake!" She stamped a little foot angrily. "If I want to go to a dance club or rock concert, I go with Meg! If I want to watch a sporting event, I go with Raoul!"

She then unfolded her arms and reached out to take his hand, her voice growing softer. "But my dad used to take me to the opera all the time when I was a little girl. I developed a passion for it. It's the reason I got into singing. It's special to me, Erik, so when I go to the opera, I need to go with YOU."

Christine looked up at him and saw that he had not understood the meaning behind her words.

After everything he had been through, she realized Erik had come to expect only rejection. Not just from her, but from everyone. That Christine had even referred to him as her _date _to Firmin and André's secretary had shaken him. Shocked him, even.

She only wished she were brave enough to prove that the last thing she planned on doing was rejecting him.

Christine slowly stepped towards Erik and tilted her head up, closing her eyes. Erik studied the girl before him. Why did it look as if she were waiting for something?

Erik bravely leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead, allowing them to linger for a moment.

He pulled back immediately, wincing as he clamped his eyes shut, realizing what he had just done. His body noticeably tensed as he fully expected Christine to lash out for daring such an informal touch.

Nothing happened.

Erik hesitantly opened one eye, then the other, only to see Christine's face filled with an emotion that she was trying desperately to hide.

Erik grew worried. Had he offended her?

Christine said nothing as she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her little face against him.

It was the last thing he had expected.

"Goodnight Erik," she spoke softly against his shirt, then slowly pulled away. "I'll be expecting that list from you." She forced a sweet smile. "I'm sure the Populaire has several operas we'd enjoy." He nodded in agreement, still surprised that she could so easily hug him.

Christine turned around and made her way towards Residence, offering him once last glance and a wave before she disappeared inside.

Erik, on the other hand, went around the back of the building and returned to his own home without ever being seen.

Such was the norm for a man who lived his entire life in shadows.

* * *

**Pardeau Women's Prison (the next day)**

"Why did you come back?" Madeline demanded of the man before her.

"I found this interesting," he replied, ignoring her question. He held up the morning paper - the entertainment section - and pointed out the opera review.

_"Unknown talent triumphs"_

_Jean Cassidy/ Classical Music Critic  
_

_The Theatre Populaire's production of Ariodante, though plagued by a string of unfortunate events, managed a compelling evening of impeccable vocal ability and the emergence of an unknown star in the making.  
_

_A performer masquerading with the moniker "Erik" took the stage after the understudy took ill. With a voice that effortlessly embraced Victoria Patil's Dalinda, "Erik" held the woman and the audience in a spell with his intoxicating range and his passionate delivery. His dexterity left many of the female patrons appreciative, some to the point of audible ecstasy.  
_

_Particular praise must be accorded to Regina Cortelli's interpretation of Generva, and Barton Marcum's sensitive staging helped draw out the inherent sensuality._

Madeline smiled at what she read. Erik on stage? And making women swoon, no less? 

"See!" The Leader pointed out. "You are happy I am here after all!"

Madeline's mood quickly diminished. "Go to hell, Shay!"

The Leader laughed so hard, tears would have fallen if his body were capable of it. "Dearest Madeline! I already own real estate there!" His laughter stopped abruptly, his voice growing deep and seductive. "I simply came here to give you your conjugal rights. You ARE allowed, are you not?" He asked smoothly. "I must say, it is good to see that you are still quite the spitfire! I did so enjoy that about you. It _excited _me!"

Madeline wanted to protest his offer, to reply with righteous indignation... but one look in his golden eyes suddenly made her mind weak and her body hungry.

_I've gone too long without his touch..._she thought.

He smiled the sly sensual smile she remembered so well and spoke again. "It will not be much longer." Madeline was startled to find him replying directly to her thoughts, but did not question nor protest. She suddenly found herself needing him far too much. What was he doing to her?

"I shall make the arrangements then," the Leader finished as he stood up and motioned for the guard, informing her of his intentions. She refused permission at first, but he easily persuaded her to comply with his request. The guard informed him of a room in the back where such things took place.

The Leader truly did enjoy the power he held over others.

He returned his attention to Madeline once again. "After we are done, my dear," it seemed his voice spoke in her very head, "I would very much enjoy hearing about your latest chat with our son..."

**END OF EPISODE 15**  



	16. Episode 16: Executioner’s Song

**_A/N: As always, a Super-Special thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir! (especially for the dance scene once again) :)_**

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter**

**Episode 16: Executioner's Song**

By: Elektra

'After Dusk' Night Club

Night had fallen. It was her favourite time. The most interesting people came out once the sun went down. She would have some fun tonight. She always did.

Now - to find her latest playmate.

_Ahhh, there's a likely candidate_. She smiled at him, knowing well that he had been watching her with more then the usual interest. She was quite aware that he was not what he seemed. That he was not simply some hapless wannabe dressed in a Victorian poet's shirt and leather pants. He had been sent here to find her. Perhaps to stop her.

But Elainia would not be stopped.

She smoothed down her black corset and leather skirts, quite aware she looked more like a dominatrix then anything from way back when. Her bright red hair was messily hanging about her shoulders, and her lips were the colour of blood.

She always received a lot of attention.

He came up to her, a smile on his face. He was smooth, she would give him that much credit. Quite a silver-tongued devil, so to speak. He would have won her over if she hadn't known he had been sent after her on purpose.

She was playing him, and he had no idea. He truly thought she was clueless as to his reason for approaching her.

It didn't take long before the two made their way to the nearest motel…

* * *

**Auditorium (the next morning)**

Madame Giry posted a note that rehearsals would be moved into the auditorium while the studios were being renovated. Erik wondered if she knew that he wanted to watch from the catwalk, where he would be afforded an excellent view, rather than the air ducts above the ballet studio.

Why Christine was being partnered _again_ by that idiot boy Robert Stevens, Erik could not say. He felt deliberately baited, as if Giry wanted him to suffer the image of Christine's body being fondled and handled by that perverted incompetent fool.

His musings were interrupted by the start of the music, and Christine's entrance. Her pointe shoes made little tapping noises even as she tried to step with silent care. She and Meg met at center stage for a moment of partner-work: Christine held Meg's hand as Meg unfurled her leg into a high développé, and then they switched to for Christine to repeat the action. Erik noted the small smiles the two exchanged, their fleeting glance as they parted and ran off stage.

This neo-classical work was less "handsy" than the winter piece, but Christine still had to deal with Bobby, and so as she piquéd into a fifth position in front of him, she involuntarily shuddered as she waited to feel his hands on her waist.

She stretched into arabesque, feeling him steady her balance, and then turn her body as she balanced _en pointe _until she made a full circle. Closing into a tight position, she readied herself to be bent back slightly.

Bobby's finger traced a path down her spine.

_That is not in the choreography_, Christine thought murderously, and for some reason this seemingly lesser movement stoked more anger than any of Bobby's more overt fondling.

She wondered briefly if it wasn't because it was just the kind of gentle, seductive gesture she imagined Erik would use.

She tried to shake the thought out of her head, but it was rather stubborn. What _would_ dating Erik be like?

Horribly distracted by her mind's strange wanderings, she fell completely out of step, barely hearing Madame Giry's voice raised in frustration as she tried miserably to catch up.

"Why do you keep DOING that?" Christine snapped angrily at Bobby once they exited to the wings. "Are you just a total pervert?"

Bobby laughed, "Oh c'mon… you're on the market again! Heard you broke up with the rich boy, so what's the big deal?"

"On the market?" she sputtered. "What am I, a piece of fish?" She then frowned. "And just so you know, I'm currently seeing someone!" Christine snapped. Well, it was close enough to the truth. Going to the opera with Erik was, technically, "seeing someone."

_Erik_ didn't know that, of course.

Christine glanced up at the catwalk and saw a shadow moving across it. She felt herself blush. Even from up there, she was quite sure he had heard her. _I guess he knows now…_

"You work fast!" Bobby snorted. "But I'm pretty sure he can't be as interesting as ME!"

"**_And I am pretty sure you cannot be interesting…_**" A voice echoed off the walls of the auditorium.

Christine snickered when she saw how high Bobby jumped. Goodness… he could do a grand jeté if he wanted to!

Of course, the other ballet students didn't find the ghostly voice all that humorous. And the angry look in Dean Giry's eyes said all that needed to be said.

* * *

**Motel 6 (that afternoon)**

It was the fifth violent murder this month. All committed by the same person.

The police on the scene could barely keep their lunches down. Nadir studied them with a certain impatience. You'd think they could handle such things by now. Though that was not to say the scene before them did not have its fair share of gore.

"Well, Khan? What do you make of it?" Gus Leroux spoke as he came up to his Guild detective. No one dared question Police Commander Leroux's newest arrival. No one knew that the Commander was also the head of the Hunters' Guild – an organization he had begun when he found out that not all crimes could be solved within the realms of normal society.

The scent of incense was mingled with the scent of death. The once-white carpet was now pink with soaked-in blood. Around the room, stained papers were spread along the floor.

Pages of a book that was to have been used to contain one with such powers.

Which meant…

"It was personal. She knew he was after her. Knew he was one of us. Even destroyed his only means of stopping her," Nadir replied as he indicated what was left of the damaged book. He looked over at the unfortunate shape pinned to the wall with daggers.

The shape used to be a _man_ at one point. Not just any man, but one of their own. A Hunter sent to entice the killer, then attempt to bring her under control.

It had obviously not worked. The man had been made a sacrifice instead. That much was obvious from the melted wax candles that sat in each corner of a pentagram – drawn in the Hunter's own blood.

The dead man was naked, wrists and neck sliced at the veins.

"We have to call _him _in for this, don't we?" Gus spoke.

Nadir nodded solemnly, then picked up his cell phone and dialed the familiar number. "Madame Giry?" he began, "I believe we need your charge's unique talents…"

* * *

**Christine's dorm room**

"I heard you turned Bobby the Perv down flat at practice," Meg began cheerfully as Christine returned from her last class.

"Yeah, well…. I'm seeing someone," Christine replied as she threw off her book-bag and flopped on her bed.

Meg furrowed her brow, "Seeing someone? Why didn't you tell me! Who is it?"

Christine was quiet a moment, then finally spoke, "Erik."

"Oh please! You are NOT seeing Erik!" Meg insisted.

Christine shrugged, "What do you call our dates to the opera then?"

"Uh… going out with a friend?" Meg offered.

She shook her head, "No. I …" she paused, hesitant. "I think I'm starting to feel more than friendly when I'm with him," she admitted.

Meg's eyes went wide. "You're kidding me?" Christine shook her head, and Meg grew serious, "Why? How? When? What happened? God, Chrissy - he's thirty-one! And he's... well..." she glanced up at the air ducts and lowered her voice, "He's a little... _creepy_..."

Christine rolled onto her stomach. "I _know_, Meggy. It's just... I _felt_ something the first time we went to the opera together. I... I got jealous when he was on stage with that other girl. I... I started thinking about him during practice today. It's why I got so distracted." she shook her head, "I get that he's a lot older and he's not what you'd call_ normal_... but..." she shrugged, unable to say more.

Meg realized that Christine was as confused as _she_ was. "Has he said anything to you? Anything that would make you think that... that it's mutual?"

Christine buried her head in her crossed arms. "No… but one moment, I'm sure I see something there, and the next… he's a block of ice."

"Oh honey," Meg sighed as she went to sit beside Christine, gently stroking her back. "You're getting mixed signals. I know what that's like." Meg was silent a moment, then finally spoke. "Christine," her voice seemed serious. "Is that why you broke up with Raoul?"

Christine lifted her head and glanced at Meg, eyes widening. "Oh god!" She gasped, "I didn't realize..."

"I'll take that as a yes then." Meg replied.

The brunette buried her face in her arms again. "Meg… if Erik doesn't kiss me soon, I think I'm going to go crazy!"

* * *

**Dean Giry's office – the next night**

"Did you tell Christine about the Leader?" Giry asked as Erik came in for his nightly assignment.

Erik nodded. "I also gave her access to my room if she ever needs it," he replied.

Giry raised an eyebrow, "Really now?" she asked, "How interesting…"

"I doubt she will be visiting much, Antoinette," he said. "Now what is my assignment? I have a lesson with Christine in a few hours,"

"You may want to cancel that lesson. It's a special assignment," Giry replied.

Erik frowned. "I do not want those assignments any more!"

"You are free to refuse, Erik. But who _else _could do this?" she handed him the folder in her hands. "A temptress is using her talents to seduce men, then sacrificing them to whatever creature she believes in," she explained. "Attempts to contain her have failed. We lost track of her last night, but our scouts were able to find her tonight after another dead body was discovered this morning."

Erik inhaled a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Will I _never_ be allowed a normal life, Antoinette?" he asked.

Before Giry could answer, Erik grabbed the folder and left the office.

* * *

**Ravelle College Campus**

Christine hugged herself, swearing at the cold February night as she made her way to the Arts Building. She had a lesson with Erik tonight.

_Tonight... _she thought. _Tonight I'm going to come right out and ask him. _She only hoped he had the answer she wanted.

"Hey, Christine!" a voice called out. Christine turned to see Bobby the pervert jogging towards her. "What are you doing wandering around here so late?"

"It's only nine pm, Bobby," Christine answered. "Now excuse me, I have to go."

He stepped in front of her. "Where are you going?"

"That's really none of your business."

He smiled ever so slightly. "This _hard-to-get_ act is cute. But it can only last for so long."

"It's not an act, Bobby. I told you, I'm seeing someone."

"Who?"

"No one you know!"

"Is he another student?" He smirked.

"No he's not! Bobby, please?" She tried to get past him, but he stepped in her way once again.

"At least give me a name." Bobby raised an eyebrow, "Unless you're making up stories."

"And if I DID give you his name, what would you do?"

"I'd want to meet him, of course. See why you find him so special."

Christine rolled her eyes. "Can't you just take NO for an answer? For goodness sake, Bobby. I'm NOT interested in you. And if Erik finds out you've been harassing me, he'll kick your ass!"

"Erik?" Bobby repeated. Christine clamped a hand over her mouth. She hadn't meant to let his name slip. "Does he have a last name?"

Christine didn't answer. She feigned to the left, then ran off to the right, escaping Bobby's attempt to stop her.

She could hear him snicker as she ran towards the Arts Building.

* * *

**5th and Gerard – 2 hours later**

"So they sent you now?" Elainia asked as a masked hunter cornered her in the alley behind the Super 8 Motel. She studied him for a moment. "I could seduce you as well and make you forget the true reason for being here, but somehow I don't think that would work." She narrowed her eyes as if trying to sense something. "There's someone else you're thinking of. Someone you know wouldn't approve if she ever found out what you did."

Erik stood silent, allowing no emotion to enter his eyes.

"Odd," Elainia found his thoughts very interesting. "I think you are the first man I've ever encountered who feels this strongly for a woman. And it is far more then _lust_! You actually LOVE her!" She licked her lips, finding this rather fascinating. "Poor thing… you don't believe you'd ever have a chance with her."

Elainia smirked coldly. "Yet what's this? In your sweetest dreams, you still have a flicker of hope – perhaps someday she may see past your hideous face. Past all the lives you've taken," she laughed. "How pathetically romantic!"

Elainia continued to read him. "What's her name now?" she asked, "Ahhh, I see. Your little angel is called-"

Erik did not let the angel's name escape Elainia's lips…

* * *

**Arts Building - Music room**

Christine waited patiently for Erik's arrival. He was never usually this late. In fact, quite the opposite. He was always here before she was. She was getting worried. Knowing the line of work he was in, he could always have a bad night.

"Waiting for your mysterious masked man?" a voice spoke behind her.

Christine spun around to see Laura Ashton standing by the window. Her heart leapt to her throat, "Erik will be here soon." Christine pointed out.

"You think so?" Laura asked. "I heard he was on a special assignment. It was a last minute thing, of course."

"Well, I'm sure he'll be done shortly," Christine insisted. "And then he'll come here and see you."

"I doubt he'll come here. He's usually in a rather dark mood after his special assignments," she shrugged. "I suppose _murder_ does that to a person."

Christine froze. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Oh, you don't know. Of course. Why would he tell his little Christine about such a thing?" Laura replied, then smirked and leaned forward. "He has this fancy little rope that he wraps around a person's neck, and..." she made a hard tugging motion with her hands, "SNAP. He's very good at it, you know. I think if you made him angry enough, he'd probably use it on _you_ too."

"Liar! " Christine replied. "Erik wouldn't hurt me. And he isn't a murderer."

"Oh, that's right. The Guild calls him their _Executioner_. A fancy name for a hit-man, don't you think?"

Christine studied the woman before her. "What Guild? What are you talking about?" She briefly remembered Erik mentioning some group he belonged to along with Firmin and André.

"Oh, there's so much about him that you don't know, little one." Laura smirked. "Why don't you go to his room and try to find out?"

Before Christine could push for more information, Laura was gone.

* * *

**Erik's Room – later**

After reaching into the hidden alcove on the wall beside his door, Christine found the key still there. He had told her to use it should she ever need to. Right now, she was quite sure she needed to.

She waited patiently as she sat on his bed, Laura's words echoing in her head. Was it possible? She was sure it couldn't be. Erik was too good a person to DO something like that.

Christine's heart skipped a beat as the door to the room opened. She froze when she saw Erik standing there, his golden eyes cold and dark, "What are you doing here?" he asked accusingly.

Christine spoke nervously, "Erik?" she asked as her eyes fell to the rope in his hands. Was it stained red? "What... what is that?" It was just as Laura had described.

Erik looked down as if he was surprised the rope was even there. "Oh," he replied, "This is called the Punjab lasso."

"The Punjab lasso?" she repeated, then took a shaky breath. "Wh-what is it used for?" she asked, quite aware she was trembling now. Erik lifted his hand to the level of his eyes and encircled his neck before she could stop him. "ERIK!" she cried out.

Ignoring her frightened cry, he continued. "THIS," he tugged the rope tighter, his hand the only thing preventing it from strangling him, "...is what I use it for!" He yanked it off, and stepped closer to her.

"You look disturbed by that, Christine." He lifted his free hand to her hair, gently caressing the dark curls with his gloved fingers. "Did I worry you for a moment there?" He lowered his head, bringing his lips beside her ear. "I'm sure you would not have missed me had I been less careful."

"Please..." she replied softly. "Please don't talk like that..."

"Who told you about the rope?" He asked with a deadly calm. "You were so scared when you saw it."

"L-Laura," she stuttered. "In the a-arts building."

"Ahhh, lovely Laura," Erik replied. "She does like to make problems for me, doesn't she?" He grasped Christine's chin in his fingers, forcing her head up. "And what did she say about me?" he hissed dangerously. "Did she say I use this rope to take lives? Did she say I would use it on _you_, Christine?"

She closed her eyes but said nothing.

He brought his masked face closer, his mouth only inches from hers. "My little angel," his voice went from intimidating to tender like the flip of a switch, "do you not know by now that I would rather _die_ than cause any harm to you?" he asked. "That I _care_ for you far more then you can ever imagine?"

Christine's eyes slowly opened. "Erik?" she licked her dry lips. "Laura s-said y-you were a... a m-murderer..."

"Well, it is nice to see Laura is capable of speaking the truth once in a while," he replied, then cupped her cheek in his gloved palm, still not allowing her to turn away. "You see, sweet Christine, she is absolutely right." Christine's blue eyes went wide at his confession, her body shivering ever so slightly. "There is a group called the Hunters Guild."

He slid a hand around her neck gently, feeling her pounding pulse against his leather-clad fingers. His voice was low and frightening when he spoke again.

"And I am their _Executioner_. I _kill _those who cause problems."

"What do you mean?" Christine squeaked softly.

"Some humans play with things they're not supposed to play with. Some have the power to do things they shouldn't do," he explained, brushing his fingers lightly over her throat. "_I_ am the only one who can stop them."

Christine was startled at the informal way he was touching her, but whether the shiver down her spine was caused by his menacing behaviour or the way his touch was making her feel, she was afraid to find out.

Erik studied her coldly, noticing her unsteady breathing, and stepped away, his hand falling to his side. "Do you hate me now, Christine? Do you hate that I have … _murdered_?"

Christine could only stare at him, words leaving her.

It was all the answer he needed.

Erik turned his back to her and coiled his rope, "As well you SHOULD," he answered. "Though you could never hate me as much as I hate MYSELF." He slipped the rope back inside his duster, unable to bring himself to look at her again. "I believe you need to find yourself a new vocal tutor and opera companion. To have a _murderer_ teach you and accompany you would not be in your best interests."

"Erik, I-"

He spoke before she could finish. "Goodbye, little angel. I don't expect to see you again."

Christine glanced at him one more time, his words holding a finality that left her cold.

She could do nothing but run out of the room in tears.

* * *

**Dean Giry's Private Dorm**

Christine's frantic knocking startled Giry from her paperwork. The poor girl sounded horribly distraught as she called the older lady through the door. Giry quickly stood up and allowed her entrance. "What is the matter, Miss Daaé? You seem rather upset."

"Upset?" Christine gasped, trembling. "This goes beyond upset!" She ran a shaking hand through her hair. "What do you know about Erik? Please, Madame. Tell me everything!"

Giry indicated Christine take the guest chair as she sat on her bed calmly. "What happened?"

"Is he... an Executioner?" Christine began as she shakily sat down. "For... some guild?"

Giry sighed deeply. "Oh dear," she started, "I was afraid of this." She glanced back at Christine. "Did he just come out and tell you?"

"N-no... it was ... someone else. A girl named Laura. When... when I asked Erik, he didn't deny it."

"Laura Ashton. Yes, she's been causing problems for us," Giry replied.

"US?" Christine sputtered. "So… you're part of this group too? Does Meg know?"

"No. She doesn't. Nor do I wish her to find out!" Giry replied, then took a deep breath. "But I suppose I should explain. It seems pointless to keep it a secret from you now." She pursed her lips, "That silly boy. I told him he'd end up putting us at risk!"

Giry shook her head and began. "You see, Christine, Erik and I are part of an organization called the Hunter's Guild. I am his liaison to the powers that be. I tell him his assignments and whatnot. As you have seen, we deal with things that regular police forces cannot."

Christine nodded dumbly at this.

"Erik is our best hunter. He is quick, strong, unemotional and cold." She took a deep breath. "And yes, Miss Daaé. He's also our Executioner. And he has been for a number of years. He's the only one who can shut off his emotions and do what is necessary,"

"MURDER is NECESSARY?" Christine gasped, eyes wide.

"I suppose outsiders may not see it that way… but let's just say in doing what he does - executing - he has saved far more lives than he has taken."

"But... they're still _human_ lives!" Christine cried out, "And… and he was so _calm_ about it!"

"Yes, I imagine he was." Giry glanced away from the girl. "I admit, that frightens me as well. Erik cares about very little. He has known nothing else."

Christine just shook her head, trying to make sense out of all of it. She should hate him. She should be afraid of him... and yet... "He told me to find a new tutor," Christine whispered softly.

"And do you wish to do that?" Giry asked, "Do you want someone else?"

"I _should_, shouldn't I?" she asked.

Giry shrugged, "That's your own decision."

"It would be the smart thing to do, right?" Christine asked. "I mean, things will just be awkward, and… knowing what he's done, I don't know if I can deal..." She glanced back at Giry. "But," her voice shook, "I still WANT him," she insisted. "I mean… as a tutor… I want… I want Erik." Christine looked away, biting her lower lip nervously. Despite what she now knew, she could not push her feelings away. "I only want Erik," she finished softly.

Giry simply raised an eyebrow at Christine's choice of words, and the girl buried her face in her hands. "I'm so confused!" she cried out. "I should hate him. Be afraid of him! I should run as far away from him as possible!" She raised her head. "You should have seen him when he told me. He was so _indifferent_."

"It seems you caught him at a rather bad time, Christine," Giry replied. "After such an _assignment_, Erik needs to be left alone for a while. What you saw in his room was a result of the hole he climbs in to shut himself off." She studied Christine for a moment. "Perhaps you can help him climb out?"

Christine seemed unsure. "I don't know how," she said softly.

"Would you feel comfortable going to him?"

"You mean _now_?" she asked nervously.

"It is up to you, dear. Maybe you can snap him out of it. Sometimes…" Giry paused, then continued, "sometimes I worry he will fall in so deep that he will not be _able_ to come back out. It's gotten worse lately, I think."

"I… I'll try," Christine stood up, "Maybe… maybe I can go see if… if he's ok,"

"Only if you're comfortable, Christine." Giry stressed, "Otherwise, it will not help him."

Christine nodded, took a deep breath, then headed out of Giry's room.

* * *

**Erik's Room**

Christine opened the door to Erik's room slowly, only to see him sitting in shadow, a single candle his only light. She quietly shut the door behind her and walked up to him, noticing that his mask lay on the other side of the room.

She glanced around and saw an overturned lamp, a fist-sized hole in the wall, and papers strewn across the floor. Drawings? Music? She didn't bother to look. Erik sat on his bed, staring at his hands, his breathing heavy as if he had just exerted himself.

"Erik?" Christine began nervously as she crouched before him. He cocked his head to study her, but said nothing. She remembered something like this happening before. She had thought him ill at the time. She realized now that illness had not been of the body, but of the mind. It had been _this_. This emptiness that took over when he ... _executed_.

Christine was still not comfortable with that.

His golden eyes turned away from her, staring at nothing. Was he even there? Or was he gone, as Giry had feared?

Despite her apprehension, despite her discomfort with what she now knew about him, Christine could not help but reach up and wrap her arms around his neck.

She felt his body stiffen, his hands falling to his side. Then something possessed her to turn her head ever so slightly and brush her lips against his skeletal cheek.

"Christine…" He gasped. She heard him take a shuddering breath, felt him trembling ever so slightly.

Christine had snapped him out of whatever darkness he had been lost in.

"Erik?" Christine asked softly. "Are you ok?"

He slid his arms around Christine in return, holding her as if she were his lifeline, and spoke only two words, "Thank you…"

**END OF EPISODE 16**


	17. Episode 17: Uninvited

**_A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir, especially for the fight scenes! _**

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter**

**Episode 17: Uninvited**

By: Elektra

Christine wasn't sure where she was, or why she was there. Her thoughts were disjointed, her eyes unable to focus.

Something stood before her.

No.

Some_one _

He was dark. Cold. Dangerous…

But he was not evil.

Christine was frozen.

She wanted to run, but she wasn't sure which way to go: Towards the dark figure, or away from him?

A hand reached out to her from the darkness. It was stained red.

Blood.

There was blood on his hands.

Christine looked up and saw two golden eyes staring down at her from a face that was made only of shadows.

_Do you hate me now, Christine?_ Those eyes seemed to ask.

Hate. Such an ugly word.

Christine backed away from the figure before her. She was scared. Confused.

She knew he would not harm her… and yet… she was afraid.

So very afraid.

Her emotions warred with her logic.

_You care for him…_ her heart taunted.

_But he's dangerous… _her mind warned.

_He's taken lives… _they both agreed.

_Could you care for a **murderer**? _Her mind asked.

_Could you care for **Erik**?_ Her heart questioned.

No.

Yes.

But what if they were one and the same?

_I can't care for a murderer. But… I can care for Erik… _

But Erik… was a murderer.

The Guild's Executioner…

Her angel of music…

_How could you care for him? _Her mind demanded. _He has killed so many! _

_How could you NOT? _Her heart cried._ He has only cherished you! _

Her emotions and her logic argued.

_Killer. _

Friend.

Murderer.

Man.

Executioner!

ERIK!

"STOP!" Christine cried out as she shot up in bed, grasping her head in her hands.

"Chrissy?" Meg mumbled as she switched on the lamp beside her, "Are you ok?"

"Meg…" Christine started. "What if you cared for someone but found out something about them that made you uncomfortable?" she asked.

"That's a hell of a question to ask at 3:30 in the morning!" Meg replied.

"Please, Meg. What would you do?"

Meg thought a moment. "I don't know, Chrissy. I guess it depends how bad it was. Maybe… if I really cared about them… like, if it was RJ or something… I would talk to him about it. I would tell him my concerns. Tell him I needed time to deal with it."

Christine nodded. That made sense.

But how could she approach Erik? Especially about this?

Maybe… maybe it would be better to stay away.

Just for a little while…

* * *

**Dean Giry's Office – 3 weeks later**

Giry read the fax in her hand. "Two quarry spotted in the Warehouse district," she informed the masked man beside her. "Apparently, they are squatting in one of the abandoned buildings." Erik nodded silently. Giry studied him a moment. Something was wrong. Very wrong. "Erik? You haven't seemed your usual self lately."

"And what is my _usual self_?" he inquired quietly. "For I certainly don't know."

"How long has it been?" Giry asked. He knew what she was referring to.

"She had not seen nor spoken to me in three weeks, four days, eight hours and…" he checked his watch, "twenty-nine minutes. No, wait… thirty minutes now."

Giry let out a sigh. "She needs time."

"_Time_…?" Erik repeated. "Please do not patronize me, Antoinette! All the time in the world isn't going to bring her back to me." He stopped. "But then, she was never WITH me, was she?" He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "I thought all would be well when she came back to see me after I sent her running…" He shook his head. "But I suppose she woke up the next morning and realized she should have stayed away."

Giry pursed her lips. She prayed there would not be another 'special assignment' any time soon. She was quite sure it would cause Erik to plunge into his darkness and never climb out…

… especially after being rejected by the only woman who had ever given him a _reason_ to.

* * *

Ravelle College – Practice room (evening)

Christine studied herself in the mirror of the practice room. She fixed up the messy bun at the back of her head and quickly moistened her lips with her cherry lip-gloss.

After a quick glance at the time – 7:30pm - Christine was ready to leave. Too much practice and she'd be far too sore for class tomorrow.

"Christine!" Bobby Stevens called out as he caught the girl emerging from the room.

Christine winced, then turned to face him. "What is it, Bobby?" she asked. She was really in no mood to talk to Bobby the Pervert.

Today, or any day.

"I just want to say that I admire your determination. Taking all your free time to practice?" he smirked, "Someone might think you're trying to avoid dealing with certain people."

"Go away, Bobby," she said coldly. "I told you I'm not interested. Now if you'll excuse me!"

"It's funny how I haven't seen you with your new man yet," Bobby replied. "I used to see Raoul here at least once a week." He leaned forward. "Did you have a fight with your _Erik_? Is that why you've been holed up here for the last few weeks?"

Christine wished she had never told him Erik's name. "I just need the practice… and my relationships are none of your business!"

"HAH! I knew it! You're on the outs!" Bobby seemed far too happy about that. Christine began to walk away from him. "Hey, will you give me a chance, at least? One date!" Christine's walk immediately turned into a run. "Aww, c'mon Christine! WAIT!" Bobby called out as he chased her back to Residence.

Christine knew there was only one place she could go where Bobby wouldn't find her.

* * *

**Warehouse District**

Erik stood outside the dilapidated shack, musing that even his room underground (in the basement) was more suitable to life than this miserable excuse for a home. Any normal police officer would have a team assembled, bust down the door and have these imbeciles scrambling for their lives.

He knew better.

He went around to the back of the house and found a loose windowpane. Dislodging the screen, he slowly slid the window open and slipped into the dark bedroom. The smell of urine and stale alcohol assaulted him, and he made his way through the room carefully to the door. Listening, he counted four voices and sensed that two of them were most certainly no longer living in the conventional sense.

_Just like two wasted fools not to know that their "friends" were vampires. _

Erik moved with stealth along the hallway to watch them. One of the humans and one of the vampires were engaged in a video game, while the other two lounged on a ratty couch, one with a strip of rubber still tied to his bicep.

This was going to be easy.

Before the four men even had a chance to notice the dark figure moving into the room, Erik had one of the vampires by the throat and stabbed him with a stake. The flying dust misted into the hair of the human man who was just sitting beside him. The second vampire struggled to his feet and lunged at Erik, who deflected him to the side.

Recovering on shaky legs, he bared his fangs and charged. This time, Erik caught him by the shirt, pinning his right arm - the one he meant to grab onto the Guild's _Executioner _with.

Erik hit him in the jaw, a move to hurt not incapacitate. He turned to the two human men, paralyzed with fear. "You had no idea, did you?" He kicked the vampire in the torso and left him crumpled over.

Grabbing one of the men, Erik looked into his glazed, dilated eyes. "You disgust me. You live in squalor, only to feed your addiction when you could be out in the light - _living_," he said, as he shook the frightened man. Slapping his face, Erik sneered. "You aren't even worth the effort to hit. Your weakness shames everything." He threw the man to the couch, and walked over to pick the vampire up. "You, however, deserve a little comeuppance."

Erik's balled fist connected with the vampire's face, sending the creature reeling. In a flash, Erik had his knee on the creature's groin, pinning him painfully to the floor. Slamming its skull over and over again into the ground, Erik felt a sense of purpose and calm. 

This is what I know. This is what I am capable of. I know nothing about being loved.

I only know how to inflict pain.

As the blood flowed out of the creature's head and mouth, Erik neatly crushed its throat, watching it sputter and choke on its own blood before dusting it.

The stench of fresh urine filled the air, and Erik turned around to see the two men passed out. His work was satisfactorily done.

* * *

Residence Cellar – Erik's room

Christine quickly let herself into Erik's room. He had not changed anything to keep her out and she realized she could still access the door.

"E-Erik?" Christine called out nervously, but the room was empty. She sighed with relief. What would she say to him anyway? Why had she come here? Why had instinct driven her to his room? Wasn't this the LAST place she should be?

A sound outside the door made her jump. He had come home.

She couldn't face him. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

She quickly slipped into Erik's closet and sat on the floor, hoping against hope that he wouldn't find her.

Christine bit her lip as she peeked out through the crack between the closed closet door and the wall. She saw Erik pause as he entered his room. He looked around suspiciously, but did nothing more.

Cursing silently, Christine realized she might have very well trapped herself. What if he didn't leave his room? How would she get out? She certainly could not stay there all night!

_Go somewhere, Erik. Please? Go! _She realized it was a futile plea, though, as he shrugged off his duster. She then noticed he was pulling of his shirt as well… and then …she closed her eyes tightly.

_Shouldn't look... shouldn't... no no no,_ she thought to herself, but found her eyes slowly opening. Christine had to bite her fist to keep from crying out at what she saw…

The cruelly inflicted scars that tormented his back traveled down over his backside and legs as well.

_When I was 13, a few older boys in my foster neighbourhood decided to set up a little freak show in their backyard… _

_…when I tried to hide my face from their customers, they ended up using their father's leather belt as a whip._

Christine buried her face in her hands as she remembered his explanation. His back was one thing… but the rest of him was something else! It meant they had to have stripped him of his clothes to inflict such damage.

_Oh God, why? _Christine wanted to scream out. _Why did you allow that to happen to him? _

Was it any wonder Erik tried to keep himself as detached from humanity as possible?

The sound of a door opening caught Christine's attention. She looked through the crack to see Erik had finally made his way into the washroom, his mask lying on the pile of clothes atop his bed.

A few seconds later, Christine heard the shower going.

She took a steadying breath, then stepped out of the closet, and snuck over to the door. She had to get out of here. Now. Or else he would know she saw.

Christine opened the door slowly, ready to leave until...

"I could have sworn I saw her go down here earlier," came Bobby's voice.

"I don't know, Bobby. Why would she be here?" That was Meg. "She doesn't like the dark. And neither do I. Let's go back upstairs."

Bless Meg's heart. She didn't even know how well she was protecting her friend's hiding place.

"No… I just want to look around for a bit." Bobby answered.

Closing the door silently, Christine slipped back into the safety of the closet.

She heard a sound at the front door. A rattling. There was a trick to opening it, and Bobby obviously didn't know what it was.

Christine just closed her eyes… and waited…

* * *

**Later**

Christine's eyes flew open when she heard the sound of shuffling. She didn't even realize she had dozed off, and now every muscle in her body screamed at her for the uncomfortable position.

Afraid to get up, she watched Erik from the cracks in the door of the closet. If he caught her here…

Erik walked towards the closet, and Christine gasped. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes narrowed, listening. He shrugged, then headed to his desk, grabbing his sweatpants from his chair and pulling them on under his towel, which he tugged off once he was covered.

Erik sat down and put his feet up on his desk, not bothering to put his mask back on. "You may come out of there any time," he spoke aloud, "or I can DRAG you out if you prefer!"

Christine's eyes went wide. How did he know? She kicked herself for asking when she obviously knew the answer. She was breathing so loudly it was no wonder he could hear her. She knew enough about Erik to realize he was attuned to even the slightest sound.

"Listen," Erik spoke up, "I don't know who you are, but if you do not come out of my closet, you will be very sorry!"

Christine tilted her head back against the wall. What was she going to do now?

"Enough of this game!" Erik got to his feet and headed over to the closet.

Christine quickly wished the world would swallow her whole ... or... wait a moment? What was to the left? A grate!

Christine quickly fumbled with the grate, but it barely budged, and the closet didn't allow much room to maneuver. By the time she finally removed it, Erik had swung the door open.

"Christine?" Erik began. "What are you doing here?" He crouched down and offered a hand to help her up.

_Murderer!_

"Don't touch me!" she gasped suddenly. Erik pulled his hand back as if he had been burned, then slowly stood up and turned his back to her. Christine closed her eyes. Why had she done that? "I'm sorry, Erik… I didn't mean-"

"Yes you did," he interrupted coldly.

Christine cursed her behaviour. In those three words, she had rejected him – just like everyone else had. She shakily got to her feet, "Erik…"

"Why are you here? You haven't wanted to be near me since-" he let the sentence trail … _since she found out the truth of what you were…_came a taunting voice in Erik's head.

"I… I was hiding," she answered, "… from Bobby the pervert…" She took a deep breath. "He's been bothering me lately, and-"

"And you chose to hide HERE?" Erik scoffed. "Did you hope I would help you with your little _problem_?" he hissed. "Perhaps I should get my rope! That is all I'm good for, isn't it?"

"I never said that, Erik!" Christine snapped, "I know there's more to you then that!"

He suddenly spun on her, "DO you now?" he asked, then slowly strode towards her, "Then why, dear little Christine, have you been avoiding me like the plague?"

Christine began to back away as he came closer, "It's just… I… I need time!"

"Time? I TOLD you that I wanted NOTHING to do with you when we first met!" he growled. "I TOLD you to leave me alone! But YOU were the one who asked me to teach you. YOU were the one who befriended me! Invited me to the opera! YOU even told people we were _seeing each other_!"

His voice grew softer. "And for a moment… for one sweet moment… you made me think that perhaps I could be normal..." His tone turned cold once more. "And now… now YOU want TIME?"

Christine let out a startled shout as she found the wall against her back. "Erik, please! I…I'm sorry!"

"SORRY, Christine?" He asked as he towered over her. "Are you _sorry _you did all that? Are you _apologizing _for making me think you cared?" She looked away, unable to see the pain in his eyes and know she was the cause of it.

Erik grasped her chin and forced her to look back up at him. "I should be used to this by now, shouldn't I? To being rejected? I should have realized I'm only important if I am _useful_ in some way."

Erik let out a harsh laugh. "I give you credit, little one - at least it wasn't my _face_ that sent you running!" His tirade suddenly stopped as he felt a warm wetness trickle on the hand holding her chin. Christine had started crying.

He quickly dropped his hand and stepped away, turning his back to her once again. "Just get out," he spoke quietly. "I don't know why I allow myself to _feel _anything anymore…"

There was a moment of silence. Erik then heard his bedroom door open and the sound of little feet racing down the hall before it closed once again.

Christine was gone.

* * *

**Dean Giry's Private Dorm – 20 minutes later**

"Momma?" Meg started as she came into her mother's room.

"Yes, dear. What is it?" Giry asked.

"Um… I'm worried about Christine," she started as she sat on her mother's bed.

"Is there something wrong with her?" Giry asked.

Meg shrugged, "I don't know. I saw her just before. She was crying. Said something about how Erik hates her, and went running up to the roof."

Giry raised an eyebrow, "Well, I assure you that Erik does not _hate_ Christine. If anything, he worries it is SHE who dislikes HIM."

"Well… it's not true," Meg replied. "She cares for him. A lot." She shrugged. "I don't know. Those two have some serious issues to work out." Meg then took a deep breath. "My other concern is that Bobby Stevens has been hounding her. She tells him to go away, and he just doesn't give up. I think I saw him following her to the roof."

"Did you now?" Giry asked.

Meg nodded. "And if she's so upset, I'm afraid he may try to take advantage of that."

Giry let out a sigh. "I will take care of it, Meg. You just go back to your dorm. I believe you have some studying to do?"

Meg winced. Her mother always knew when she had a test coming up. "Ok, Momma… I'll go study. But Christine-"

"She will be fine," Giry replied. "Go on now."

Meg nodded, then headed out.

Giry picked up her cell phone, and dialed the first number on her list. "Hello, Erik. You may want to go to the roof…"

* * *

Ravelle College – Roof

Christine sat upon the angel statue atop the roof, staring out at the campus beneath her. She watched everyone milling about, minding their own business.

She wondered if one of them was Erik.

Christine hugged herself as she remembered the argument in his room. The pain in his voice was unbearable. She had hurt him. Far more then any inhuman creature ever could.

"Christine?"

Christine winced at the voice, "God, Bobby. What do you WANT from me?"

"I just want to know why you keep giving me the cold shoulder!" He started as he walked towards the statue.

Christine shook her head, "Bobby, please... I'm involved with someone right now. I told you that!"

"Then why are you sitting on this roof by yourself instead of with him?" Bobby asked.

"I saw him last night." Christine lied.

"No you didn't. Last night, you were working!" he pointed out.

"You... you've been FOLLOWING me? " Christine gasped.

"Of _course _I-" he stopped, realizing what she must be thinking about him. Bobby ran a hand through his hair. How to get out of this? He couldn't tell her _why_ he was watching her. His _boss _would not want her to know.

Christine shook her head in disbelief. "I can't believe you've been FOLLOWING me!"

"No. It's not what you think!" Bobby said quickly.

Christine climbed down the statue to face him. "It's EXACTLY what I think. And here I was under the impression you were only a _pervert_."

Bobby quickly walked towards her. "Wait. Let me explain!"

Christine took a step back, shaking her head.

"Just listen to me!"

"Christine!" Erik suddenly burst through the doorway to the roof, noticing the only other two people occupying the space. "YOU!" he hissed at the boy. "Get AWAY from her!"

In a blur of black, Erik stood mere inches away from Bobby. The boy jumped. How on Earth did he move so fast? "Are you her _Erik_?" Bobby gasped. Erik narrowed his eyes – golden eyes. Bobby had seen eyes like that before.

"Why?" Bobby asked, confused. "Why did you pretend to be someone else? And why are you wearing a mask? Why did you tell me to steal her away from YOURSELF? I don't get it!"

Erik seemed stunned at Bobby's words. "What are you talking about, boy?" he asked. "She is not _mine_, first of all. And if she were…" he met Christine's eyes, "I would not want ANYONE to _steal her away_."

Bobby shook his head, "This… this makes no sense!" He then frowned, "Take off the mask!"

"No. I don't think so." Erik replied.

"Take it off!" Bobby demanded. "Stop pretending to be two people!"

"There is only ONE _me_," Erik hissed. "And I assure you, the rest of the world is quite grateful for that!"

"Stop it!" Bobby snapped, "Stop MESSING with me! You're crazy, aren't you?" He looked towards Christine. "He's insane! He pretends to be someone else and tells me to follow you around and try to get your attention!"

"Bobby, no," Christine started. "You don't understand what's going on. Please. Erik isn't this other person." Erik turned to Christine. They both knew whom she was referring to. Only one other person could confuse Bobby this way.

"How do YOU know?" Bobby asked.

"Because I think I know who's trying to set you up here," she explained. "And trust me, it's not Erik! He just… he _looks_ like him, that's all."

"Oh yeah? Let's SEE how much he looks like him!" Bobby replied. Before Erik could stop the boy, Bobby ripped the mask from his face. "My god!" Bobby froze as he looked upon what had to be Death himself. "What the hell?"

"I do hope you're satisfied!" Erik hissed. "As you can see, I am NOT that other man!"

"What _are _you?" Bobby asked, readying his stance in case Erik attacked, but Erik was above making the first move. It was for the better as Bobby could not take his eyes from the horrific sight of the man's face. Finally, he attempted to connect a right swing, but the skilled hunter ducked easily.

Hoping to keep the boy unharmed, Erik reached out to grab him and immobilize him, but Bobby slipped out from under his grasp, twisting away and reaching into his coat pocket. The masked man grabbed his shoulders and tried to force him to the ground.

Erik felt a sudden fire burn across his midsection. He clutched at his abdomen and noticed the warm sticky wetness on his fingers. His eyes slowly slid to the bloody knife in Bobby Steven's right hand, and the boy dropped it immediately, shocked at what he had just done.

"Oh god, I didn't-I didn't mean to! I just… I got scared!" he gasped. "I-" He grew silent when he saw Erik's eyes. Cold. Dark. Dangerous.

The blackness had taken control.

The pain in Erik's body did not exist now as his bloody hands wrapped around the boy's throat, leaving Bobby gasping for air as the boy tried to fight the vice-like fingers around his neck. It was a futile struggle. The boy's eyes slowly rolled back into his head, his body going limp, falling unmoving at Erik's boots.

Bobby wasn't dead, Erik was sure of that. And the boy was lucky he had passed out, though whether it was from fear or lack of oxygen, Erik didn't know.

Erik turned back to Christine, who appeared frightened at what she had just witnessed. "Get away from the edge…" he spoke, his voice strained as he held out a hand. "Please... Christine," he pleaded. "You'll fall..."

Christine stumbled back, unable to look away from the blood on Erik's hands.

Erik's gaze followed hers. "It's not his..." he tried to explain, but she wasn't listening, her feet shuffling back a few more inches.

The next step she took was almost her last as she felt herself lose her balance. Desperate hands grasped at thin air as a frightened cry ripped from Christine's throat. She heard Erik call out her name, felt his slippery fingers grab her wrists, and soon found herself pulled from the ledge with such force that she landed atop him.

"I promise, Christine - Bobby is only unconscious…" Erik's hoarse voice hissed in her ear. "I had no other choice!"

Christine looked down into his tortured face, realizing he had not only saved her life, but softened her landing as best he could.

"Oh god… I'm so sorry!" she blurted out as the guilt hit her. Executioner he may be, but _evil_ he was not. She had thought only the worst after finding out about his special assignments, letting everything else she knew about him disappear from her mind.

"Erik?" She asked worriedly when she noticed his pale complexion growing even paler. "Erik! Are you-" she stopped as she felt something wet seeping through her clothing. She pushed herself off him and saw the red stain on her t-shirt. It wasn't _her_ blood, she knew that. She wasn't hurt. So where-

Christine let out a startled cry as she yanked his shirt up and saw the violent slice across his abdomen. "Oh god... oh god oh god! You're hurt! What do I do? How... how do I stop it?"

"I… I'll… be … fine…" Erik gasped. He tried to sit up, but the pain was too much. "Just… just go…Christine! GO!"

Without another word, he collapsed back onto the cold hard ground, only vaguely aware of a voice calling out his name.

* * *

Private Hospital Room – later

Christine studied the unmoving man lying on the bed before her. She had replaced his mask after he had passed out, and immediately ran to find Dean Giry. Christine understood, somehow, that the ballet mistress would know exactly what to do and who to call.

And she had. The doctor had just finished stitching Erik up and excused himself from the room.

Christine glanced up at Giry, who stood silently a few feet away. "Why didn't that doctor ask questions about the mask?"

"He is one of ours," Giry replied.

Christine furrowed her brow, "_Ours_? You mean, part of the Guild?" Giry nodded. "Will Erik be ok?"

"Yes. He is a fast healer. He just needs rest right now."

"I should make him more comfortable," Christine said as she reached over and slipped her fingers beneath his mask.

"Wait," Giry said quickly, stopping Christine before she could remove the black leather. "He has never let me see his face," she explained. "If you insist on taking the mask off, do so after I leave. I do not wish to suffer his wrath by looking upon him without permission."

"Would he really be that mad?" Christine asked, but she knew better - Erik's mask was not to be removed.

"_Furious_," Dean Giry replied. "And not only about that... but about the very fact that I am here witnessing his current state."

Christine furrowed her brow. "What's wrong with helping him though?" she asked. "I mean... whenever _I'm_ hurt or sick, I'm pretty grateful when people help me out."

Giry offered a ghost of a smile. "But you are not _Erik_, Miss Daaé. You are _used _to such things. You do not worry that people will use it against you." She shook her head. "That is the greatest difference between Erik and everyone else - he is suspicious of anyone who may assist him. I believe you are the only person he has ever completely trusted."

She patted Christine on the shoulder, making the girl feel worse than before, if that was possible.

_Yes. He trusted me, and I ran away from him…_

"Now I suggest you leave before he wakes up. He will not be very forgiving if you stay here, watching over him like he was a child. I daresay he will get rather... _irritated_. I speak from my own experience," Giry explained. "I learned long ago that the more pain Erik is in, the more he wishes to be left alone," without another word, Giry exited the room.

Christine watched Giry leave, then turned back to Erik. His temper be damned - she was freeing him from the discomfort of his mask.

She leaned back and ran her eyes over his unmoving form, biting her lip worriedly as she saw how Erik's skeletal face and natural paleness made him look like a healthy corpse.

Sliding quietly onto the bed, Christine leaned down and rested her forehead against his. "If you can hear me, I'm sorry. I know I've been causing you a lot of trouble lately. I... I just got so scared when I found out. I mean... you get that, right?"

Christine stopped, realizing it was pointless to try to explain this to him in his current state. Instead, she tilted her head to gave him a delicate kiss on the cheek, then slowly… ever so slowly… her mouth began to move of its own accord. Christine didn't know what possessed her or why… but some hidden longing - or merely curiousity - slid her lips over his.

Her eyes closed as she lingered and felt his warm breath mingle with her own. Christine dared to wonder what it would feel like if he were conscious of her stolen kiss. Aware of what she was doing.

Would he respond? Would he push her away?

She would probably never know.

Christine slowly pulled back and gazed down at his face - no, her kiss had not turn him into a handsome prince, nor did she expect it to. But a pretty face meant nothing to her now.

With a shaky breath, Christine carefully curled up beside Erik's still form and rested her head on his chest, letting out a relieved sigh when she heard his strong comforting heartbeat.

Christine then closed her eyes… and allowed sleep to take her.

* * *

**Ravelle College – roof**

The Leader walked around the unmoving form of Bobby Stevens. "Wake up," he said. Bobby's eyes immediately flew open, the boy gasping desperately for breath. "Stand up." Bobby did so. "Now what do you have to say for yourself?"

Bobby's glassy eyes looked up at his master. "I… failed…"

"Yes. You did."

"I didn't know what to do! The plan wasn't working! You said you wanted her out of the way."

"You were meant to _steal _her away! I needed him emotionally shattered and mentally susceptible. Not ANGRY! He's far too uncontrollable when he's ANGRY," Mr. Shay snapped.

"Why is this person so important that I ended up becoming an insane stalker and stabbing Christine's ugly-as-death boyfriend – who reminds me way too much of you, by the way!"

The Leader looked down at the boy before him, his voice quiet and dangerous when he spoke. "You. Did. What?" he hissed. "You STABBED my SON?"

Bobby's eyes went wide, "You… your SON?" he sputtered. "How? You … you look the same age as him!"

"You humans…" Mr. Shay shook his head disapprovingly, then looked down at Bobby. "I suppose I should punish you now."

"P-punish?" Bobby gasped.

The Leader scowled. "If my son does not recover properly, then I will do MORE then simply punish you!" Mr. Shay narrowed his eyes. "Let us just say, you will not be doing much dancing for a while…"

* * *

**Private Hospital Room – 2 hours later **

_Odd _was the sight that greeted Erik when he awoke. He was quite convinced his mind was playing tricks on him.

He tried to remember what had happened. A blade had slashed his flesh when he had faced off with Christine's new _admirer_.

Blood.

Yes, he had lost a lot of blood. But he had choked his attacker into unconsciousness before finally pulling Christine away from the edge of the roof.

He had then allowed sweet oblivion to come over him, silently begging for his life-long torment to end.

And now, he had awoken in a hospital room, surrounded by soft warmth... the scent of apples… and the sweet taste of cherry on his lips.

Was he dead?

Surely he had to be, for in life no female would wrap her arms around him so affectionately - no woman would be curled up against him so soundly. No little angel would lay her head upon his chest and fall asleep so easily.

Angels would not even be near something like him. Not when a creature like Erik belonged more with demons.

The form beside him stirred slightly, muttering a soft word. Was that his name? Erik tilted his head slightly to get a better look at the creature that had taken him into her eternal embrace.

Her eyelids fluttered open slowly, revealing warm blue depths, "Hey..." she began groggily, "You finally woke up."

"Christine!" Erik cried out in alarm as he shot up in bed, sending the poor girl nearly crashing to the floor. The sudden movement doubled him over in pain, causing him to shout out as he clutched at his abdomen.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and immediately shook it off. "DON'T!" he hissed. "Don't _touch_ me!"

Christine froze as her earlier words were thrown back at her. Did he even realize it? Now she knew how painful it was to hear them.

Erik ran his free hand over his face and realized he wore no mask. He quickly allowed his ebony hair to fall over his horrible visage, hiding himself from Christine's eyes.

"STOP IT!" he demanded as he turned his head away from her inquiring gaze. "Stop _looking_ at me! GET OUT!"

_The more pain Erik is in ... the more he wishes to be left alone... _Christine remembered Giry's words. She had warned Christine that Erik would get... _irritated..._

_Irritated _was putting it nicely. He was downright _furious_.

"I SAID, get OUT!" Erik roared.

Christine could only stare at him, "Do you really _hate _me that much?"

Erik suddenly stood up, towering over the petite girl as his injury was momentarily forgotten, "How selfish to think this is about _you,_" he hissed. Christine turned away from those angry eyes, but he grasped her chin and forced her to face him. "No, little girl! This has nothing to _do_ with you!" he hissed.

"Erik-"

"I REFUSE to allow some silly child to _play _with me, only to abandon me the moment she finds out something she does not like!" he continued. "Or maybe it's OK now since I almost killed a man on your behalf. Is that it, Christine?" His golden eyes glinted in the low light.

He let go of her chin and pointed to the door, "If you truly wish to make yourself useful, girl, buy me a book to read while I'm stuck in this sterile hell!" He turned his scarred back to her.

"I did this," Christine spoke softly. "Instead of talking to you about it, I just avoided you. I added to all the pain inside."

"I'm so sorry!" she continued. "I wanted to show you that I wasn't like them. I wanted you to know that not everyone rejects you! And… I know it seems like I did just the opposite. Like I just… just proved… I was like everyone else." She swallowed hard, not quite sure what she was saying but going with instinct.

"But you don't understand! How was I supposed to respond when I found out about... about the _executioner_?" She asked. "It _scared_ me! I needed some time to deal..." Her voice grew softer. "Erik, please... don't hate me for that." She hesitantly reached a hand out, brushing her fingers over the faded scars on his back – a physical reminder of everything he had suffered.

"STOP!" Erik spun on her. Christine winced at his anger, and Erik froze. What was he doing? Had he become such a monster? Had his behaviour really terrified this sweet girl before him?

Erik took a deep breath, his expression softening as he slowly lifted his hand and palmed Christine's cheek. "I am a miserable creature, aren't I, Christine?" he asked quietly, his thumb brushing across her skin. "It is _me _who frightened you away. I apologize for that. I should have understood. Of course you needed time. It's no wonder you avoided me."

He dropped his hand and turned away, ashamed of his behaviour. "Perhaps it's _better _if you avoid me. Permanently," he said. "It would save us both this distress." He shook his head, "The last thing I ever want to do is scare you."

Christine reached out for his arm and turned him back towards her. She saw his eyes grow wide as she wrapped her arms around his torso, mindful of his injury. "Then stop yelling at me so much..." she muttered softly.

Erik let out a shaky breath and licked his lips nervously – still wondering at the strange sweet taste upon them.

He turned his hideous face from her, closing his eyes tightly as he tried to force his emotions down. He cupped her shoulders in an awkward attempt to return an embrace he was not used to.

While things momentarily seemed to be comfortable between them, Erik realized that one more horrifying revelation would send Christine running permanently. He could not bear that again.

He knew, then, that he had to keep quiet. He could not tell her about the emotions warring inside him. About the fire threatening to consume him.

After all - what would be more horrifying for the girl than having a monster like himself offer up a damaged soul? 

END OF EPISODE 17


	18. Episode 18: Summer Vacation

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir (And thanks to PPN for a certain long-winded word) **_

**_Ok, this is another light episode. I felt the need for one after the previous angst. Enjoy!_**

* * *

**Erik: The Vampire Hunter**

**Episode 18: Summer Vacation**

By: Elektra

**Laramie Drive **

Laura Ashton looked at the clothing she had gathered as of late. Surely one of these outfits would appeal to the man who stoked fires within her that she never knew could be stoked.

Stubborn, selfish Erik! How dare he leave her wanting?

But all was not lost. This summer, his little angel would be gone! Gone from campus, and hopefully gone from his life.

Laura would have to show him that she was tired of playing games. There was only so much a woman could take before she took matters into her own hands.

She would taunt him and tease him until he could take no more. He was a man, after all.

A tormented man who had yet to be touched by a woman.

How long would it take for his body to need her once she began to seduce him? Surely even a virtuous man could only go so long before giving in to the joys of the flesh.

Laura was going to make very certain that it was HER flesh Erik would enjoy. She would change him once he gave in to his desires… whether he wanted her to or not.

And then… then she would have him. Not just his body, but his mind and his soul as well. She would enthrall him. Make him hers to command.

Sixteen years ago, he had changed her life. Allowed her to be reborn into the beautiful powerful creature she now was.

It was time to return the favour.

* * *

**Ravelle College – Erik's room **

Erik looked up from the song he was composing when he heard the eager knock at his door. "Erik? Are you here?"

_Christine… _

"Yes. I'm here. Come in," he called out.

She opened the door slowly and smiled when she saw him sitting on his bed writing. "Hey there," she walked in and held a box out to him. "I have a present for you. I hope you like it."

"It is not my birthday," he replied, surprised she would be giving him a gift.

She shook her head. "Doesn't matter. It's a thank you for... the tutoring and … well, everything." It was both a thank you and an apology. Christine met his eyes, her voice soft when she spoke. "I never would have gotten through this year without you."

Erik put aside his composition and took the box from her, opening it to see a neatly folded piece of black material sitting in the middle. He unfolded it carefully, only to reveal a soft mask, complete with thick black elastics to fit snug around his head.

"Christine…" he started, not quite sure what to say.

She bit her lip nervously and looked up at him. Was he offended? She hoped not. She had worked so very hard on it. She had even asked a few friends majoring in Costume Design for tips. They had allowed her to use their sewing equipment, and had even told her how to build up the middle of the mask so that it wouldn't press against the nose.

Of course, they had no idea the person Christine was making the mask for did not have a nose to begin with.

"Um, well… the weather is getting warmer," Christine continued, "And I thought this might be more comfortable when you're fighting vamps and stuff. More than the leather, I mean," she informed him. "Uh… and… it's made of 300-thread-count cotton, so it's pretty sturdy. You can wash it too," she glanced up at him, then looked back at the mask in his hands. "I'm not a great sewer, but I hope it fits ok. I can always tweak it if you need me to." She grew silent, unsure what to say next as she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ears.

Erik studied the mask. It was made by Christine's own little hands. For him. Because she thought it would be more comfortable.

If it were possible for him to love the girl more, this would have done it.

He turned his back to her for a moment and slipped off the black leather mask, immediately replacing it with the soft cool material. It rested lightly against his skin, almost feeling as if it wasn't even there.

Erik walked over to the covered mirror on the other side of the room. He lifted the dust cloth, and looked at his reflection. The cotton mask molded to his face perfectly, the middle lifting slightly from the rest of the mask to give the impression of a real nose beneath it.

The mask seemed to smooth out his harsh features, making it appear he simply had high elegant cheekbones instead of the skeletal face that lay beneath the material.

"I wasn't sure of the colour," Christine spoke again, quite aware she was babbling like a nervous school girl after giving her big crush a present. "I was thinking maybe white, since black attracts the sun… but then I realized most… well… ALL of your clothes are black so-" She stopped as Erik let the dust cover drop back over the mirror and walked towards her.

He stood before Christine and took her hands in his own. "Thank you, Christine. It's perfect." Erik spoke gently, his lips hovering over her knuckles, his warm breath tickling her skin. He dared not make contact.

Christine found herself disappointed, remembering how those very lips felt beneath hers while he lay unconscious in a hospital bed. She wondered if she would ever be brave enough to kiss him when he was awake.

She slid her hands from his, worrying him for a moment… until her arms wrapped around his waist. "You're welcome, Erik," she replied, resting her head against him.

He hesitantly returned the embrace, awkwardly patting her shoulders. He immediately let his arms drop back to his side, releasing a shaky breath.

Christine understood - he was still not comfortable with physical contact. Christine supposed it was only natural for a man who wasn't used to it.

Closing her eyes, she tightened her arms around him, her hug growing more than friendly.

"Christine?" Erik's startled tone and nervous tensing making it very clear he was aware of the sudden change.

Christine quickly realized what she was doing, "Oh! I… uh…" she stepped back, effectively ending the contact. "Sorry. I… I think I'm a little tired…" _Lame excuse, Christine… _she chided herself, _very lame… _

She could see the material on Erik's face shift ever so slightly, and realized he was furrowing his brow.

"Facial expressions!" Christine cried out excitedly. "I can actually make out your facial expression!"

Erik put a hand to the cloth upon his face, and felt it for himself. "So it seems!" he replied, rather impressed. "I commend you on your handiwork, Christine. Thank you once again."

Christine was relieved their momentary awkwardness was gone. "Just remember me this summer," she smirked, then suddenly sobered at her own mention of summer.

The end of second semester was only two weeks away - which meant summer break would be upon her soon.

… which meant …

… Christine would find herself without Erik for three long lonely months.

* * *

**Christine's Dorm - later **

Christine stared at the paper before her - a final essay on the history of opera. It was only worth 15 of the mark, but while her vocal performances made up the bulk of her grade, Erik had told her that knowledge was as important as talent.

She didn't want to disappoint him.

_The period of Italy's greatest musical influence was called the Baroque period. It lasted from the end of the 16th Century to the middle of the 18th century. During this time, the artists began to create new forms of expression... _

Christine let out a sigh. This was almost as torturous as her English final. But THAT was worth a good 30. And it was on, of all things, Shakespeare. What kind of word was _honorificabilitudinitatibus _anyway? Some genius he turned out to be…

"Christine!" Meg's cheerful voice startled Christine as the strawberry blond burst through the door. "Guess what? Momma said you can come stay with us for the summer!" She smiled as she ran up and hugged her friend happily. "It's that great! We're going to have so much fun!"

"Really?" Christine replied, unable to hide her excitement. She was going to answer a post for a summer house sitter, yet spending it with Meg would be preferable.

Meg had a way of cheering Christine up when she was down – and Christine was quite sure she'd be down for most of the summer, unable to talk to Erik. To sing with him. To simply spend time with him.

But…

"I don't want to overstay my welcome," Christine started. "I mean… your mom would get annoyed after a while, wouldn't she?"

Meg dismissed her concern with a wave of her hand. "Momma was worried you'd say that," she smiled. "So she told me to tell you that she needs help around the house. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, shopping, gardening. Her bad leg has been acting up lately and…" Meg stopped, then pouted, "… and she doesn't trust me to take care of things by myself..." she muttered.

Christine laughed at that. Meg did have a habit of being rather _flighty_ at times. It was no wonder her mother wanted a more reliable pair of hands.

"OH!" Meg suddenly remembered something. "Momma also wanted me to tell you she's hiring an independent contractor for the summer. He's going to do some work around the house, fix the roof, renovate. Stuff like that. She wants to know if you'd be uncomfortable having a strange man living with us."

Meg then smirked mischievously, "He could be really cute and maybe even single!" she winked.

Christine sighed quietly. "Looks don't matter all that much to me lately, Meg,"

Meg slid an arm around her friend's shoulders, her voice growing gentle. "You're going to miss him, aren't you? Maybe we can get him to come visit?"

Christine shook her head. "It was a big deal he even came to your place for Christmas. It would take a lot to try and talk him into taking the two-hour train ride again. I know he hated being surrounded by strangers, getting stared at, having people whisper behind his back." She shrugged. "Anyway, I have to finish this essay or I'll be missing a big chunk of my mark."

Meg nodded, taking the hint that Christine didn't want to talk about Erik any more. Giving her friend one more hug, Meg headed out to the student lounge.

* * *

**Laramie Drive** – **2 weeks later **

"You seem somewhat distracted tonight," a satiny voice whispered in Laura Ashton's ear.

"I can't find him," she whined as cold lips brushed against the back of her neck and shoulders. She pushed her eager lover away and rolled over in the large elegant bed to face him. "And when I can't find him, I get distracted."

The Leader laughed as he propped himself up on his elbow. "Your interest in my son is bordering on obsession my dear. Why, I may start thinking you only took me to bed to satiate some wicked desire for _him_,"

"I took you to bed BEFORE you revealed you were Erik's father, Shay," she answered. "That knowledge actually creeps me out a little."

"Really now?" he asked with a graceful arch of his eyebrow. "You did not seemed _creeped out_ twenty minutes ago."

"Well… you're just very good at making me forget little details like that." She pouted. "But I still want to know why I can't find him! He hasn't haunted Ravelle's Arts building for a few days now! I've been checking!"

"Never fear, lovely Laura. I know where he is."

"So where is he? Where's Erik?"

"Ah ah ah. Patience, my dear. You must have patience,"

"I am running OUT of patience, I want-" Words left her as his long slender fingers slid beneath the sheets.

"Yes, Laura dear? What is it you want?" the Leader asked.

Oh yes… he _was _so very good at making her forget …

* * *

**Giry Family Residence **

Christine grunted with effort as she carried her suitcases into the house. It was every piece of clothing she owned, knickknacks, toiletries, and other things she could not bare to be without – like her laptop.

"Christine, I told you my contractor would be here any minute now. He could have helped you with that," Antoinette Giry informed the girl.

Christine shook her head with a smile. "Only one more suitcase to go, Madame Giry." She had stopped calling Giry "Dean" now that they were out of school for the summer. "Besides, I don't want to ask someone else to carry in my luggage. It wouldn't be right."

Giry shrugged ever so slightly. "I assure you he would not have minded, my dear."

Christine studied the older woman a moment. Why did she look as if she were keeping some devious little secret? Christine shook it off, and brought her suitcase into Meg's room. She would be staying on the foldaway her friend had been using for a couch.

"Whose luggage is this, Antoinette? You would think they were packing for a year!" came a far too familiar voice from the hallway.

Christine dropped her suitcase and turned around, only to see Erik walking into the room with her third and final suitcase. Their eyes met, and Christine was sure her heart would leap out of her chest.

"Christine…" Erik exclaimed quietly. He slowly turned to the older woman beside him. "Antoinette, you did not tell me _Christine _was to be your summer guest,"

"Oh, it must have slipped my mind," Giry replied, then glanced over at Christine and saw the expression of surprise on the girl's face. "Did I not mention that Erik was my contractor?"

Christine simply shook her head, trying desperately not to burst at the rush of joy that currently filled her.

"Forgive me for that," Giry continued. "I'm getting on in years now, it's sometimes difficult to remember these things." Without another word, she turned gracefully on her heel and walked out of the room.

"Pardon me, Christine," Erik replied. He put her suitcase down, and followed Giry out.

He needed to have a talk with his _employer_ for a moment.

* * *

**Giry's Room **

"Antoinette…" Erik began as he walked into Giry's room and shut the door behind him. "You should have told me!"

"Does it matter, Erik? I thought you'd be pleased." Giry replied as she opened her closet and filled it with the clothes she had brought back from her private room at Ravelle.

"I AM!" Erik replied, "I am VERY pleased! So pleased that it would no doubt _frighten_ the poor girl!" He stepped closer to Giry, lowering his voice, "But this makes things difficult for me!" he hissed, "To be living in such intimately close quarters with her? I will go _mad_ from it."

Giry turned to him and crossed her arms as she studied the man before her. "Are you telling me that you cannot control yourself around a pretty girl, Erik?"

"What I am TELLING you is that I will be painfully reminded of what can never be! Is that what you want? You want me to suffer?"

"Well, heaven forbid you may actually have to admit to the girl how you feel," Giry sighed.

"Antoinette-" Erik warned.

"Or worse yet, what if she feels the same way?"

"Do not _torment _me!" Erik growled.

"After all, you cannot run from your feelings here like you could at the College," Giry continued. "You had air ducts to sneak around in, shadows to sulk in. But here? What do you have? Nothing. This house is rather small compared to Ravelle." She looked up at him, her voice betraying no sympathy. "What a shame - I have deprived our resident ghost of his hiding places."

* * *

**The next day **

Christine awoke to a loud banging and clattering outside the house. She rolled over sleepily in bed and checked the clock. 10am. _Who would be up this early on a summery Saturday? _

"Meg?" Christine muttered. She saw a shape shift beneath Meg's blankets, followed by an incoherent mutter. Her friend wasn't getting up any time soon.

Christine pushed herself off her bed and shuffled her feet along the floor, following the sound. The noises were coming from the back of the house, and Christine soon stood at the glass door that allowed a perfect view of the Girys' swimming pool.

In the backyard, Christine saw Erik carrying several 2x4s over his lean shoulders - which looked paler than usual against his black tank top. Giry seemed to be telling him where to put them.

He dropped his current bundle atop another pile of wood, his gloved hands gracefully drawing shapes in the air as he explained to Giry something that received an agreeable nod.

Christine slowly pushed open the sliding door, "What's going on out here?" she muttered drowsily, wincing at the bright sun that blazed across the blue sky.

Erik turned to her... and froze. His amber eyes grew wide as he was unable to stop them from traveling over Christine's form ever so slowly.

He blinked once. Twice...

…then immediately looked away and cursed under his breath.

"Christine," Giry started calmly as she studied the girl. "Would it not be wiser to wear a _robe_ in the presence of a man?"

Christine's mind still had not fully woken up. With a furrow of her brow, she glanced down at herself. She was in her summer pajamas – a sky-blue cami and matching boyshorts.

She felt a flush of heat upon her cheeks - never realizing before how her choice of sleepwear left very little to the imagination. Then again, she had never worn them in the presence of a man before either.

"Umm…I… I'm sorry…" she mumbled quickly, and rushed off to her room.

Giry turned back to Erik, who was wound tighter than a clock. "She is gone."

He shook his head vehemently. "I can't do this," he hissed. "I cannot STAY here. Not with her!"

"And what are you going to do?" Giry asked. "I have paid you half the fee in advance, and I have brought all these supplies," she indicated the mess of wood, nails, and various hardware scattered about her backyard. "I do not have the time nor patience for my contractor to take a two-hour train ride here and back every day simply because he is afraid of a little girl."

He spun on the woman. "It is SHE who should be afraid, Antoinette! Don't you understand?" he cried out. "She is far too tempting."

"Oh Erik, please." Giry sighed, "You have been watching my ballet classes long enough to have seen your fair share of scantily clad girls. You are not one to drool. It is unbecoming."

"Hey…" a quiet voice came from the opened door. Giry and Erik looked up to see Christine once again, now with a light cotton robe wrapped around her. She turned to Erik. "I … uh… heard some weird sounds coming from the spare room. The door was closed, and I figured you didn't want me to go in there… but-"

"Isis and her kittens," Erik answered, now able to look at a covered Christine.

"They're here?" she squealed happily.

"Yes. I could not leave them alone at the college." He then furrowed his brow as he curiously studied the girl before him. "When did you get glasses, Christine?"

"Oh!" Christine hands went to the thin silver wire-rimmed frames upon her face. "First year High School. I haven't had a chance to put my contacts in yet," she replied, feeling a little embarrassed at the inherent geekiness of her poor eyesight.

"They look very cute on you," Erik replied truthfully.

Christine blushed, smiling shyly. "Thanks…" She paused for a moment, then spoke once again. "Um… Erik?"

"Yes, Christine?"

"Can I go play with the kitties?" she asked hopefully, looking like an eager little girl with a new toy.

"Of course. I'm sure they would like some attention. Just make sure they do not get out."

"Oh, they can have reign of the house if they wish," Giry offered. "So long as they do not ruin my furniture. Let them out, Christine. But close the screen here. We don't want them running into the street now,"

With a gleeful little jump, Christine slid the screen closed and headed off to Erik's feline-occupied room.

Erik sunk down on the cool grass, unable to take his eyes from where Christine had stood. "Antoinette…" he began softly.

"Yes, Erik. What is it?"

"Is there something wrong if I believe a frizzy-haired, four-eyed Christine has never looked more beautiful?"

Giry looked down at him and raised an eyebrow. "I take it you are not tempted any more?"

"I will always be tempted, Antoinette," he replied whimsically. "But right now, I am _awed_…"

* * *

**Giry kitchen - later **

Christine nibbled at the cheese sandwich on her plate as she kept shifting her glance to the sliding door several feet away. It was open save for the screen to keep the cats inside.

Erik was in the backyard, engrossed in his work as he hammered away vigilantly at the wood, his own lunch sitting untouched on a table beside him.

"It's about time you got a deck built, Momma," Meg smiled. "I've wanted to picnic out there for the longest time!"

"Well, Erik has some lovely ideas. He suggested putting a roof over it to protect us from the rain," Giry replied.

Meg clapped her hands together. "I love the rain when it's warm out!" She then glanced at Christine and studied her for a moment. "Don't you usually put your contacts in after you get dressed?"

"Uh… um…" Christine's hand went self-consciously to the frames on her face, "Well…. you know, my allergies are acting up. Eyes were kind of irritated, so-"

"Oh for heaven sake!" Giry replied impatiently, then turned to her daughter. "Erik told Christine that her glasses looked cute."

Meg glanced at her friend, and smirked, "That explains it then."

"It's not like that…" she muttered, then felt a nudge against her leg. "Awww… hey sweetie!" Christine cooed as she picked up one of Erik's kittens.

It was the best way to avoid the conversation.

Erik had named the brown and cream-coloured cat "Odin," the poor thing having been born with only one good eye. It was an homage to some Norse god, he had said, and Odin had instantly become Christine's favourite feline.

It seemed she was developing a preference for misfits as of late.

The phone suddenly rang, and Meg quickly jumped to her feet to answer it, "Hello? RJ!" she squealed.

Christine rolled her eyes and smiled. "Didn't take him too long to call,"

"Ahhh, he loves me!" Meg replied delightfully, then took the portable phone and disappeared into her room.

Christine watched her go, then stood up and carried Odin to the sliding screen, settling the kitten in her lap as she sat down and looked out into the backyard "I didn't know you could do that," she started as she caught Erik's attention, indicating the wood and tools spread out before him. "I thought you just designed things." He glanced back at her, and she took note of the fact he was wearing the mask she had made for him.

"I used to build things all the time when I was younger," he explained. "Altering plans to see what would work better, and so on." He looked around a moment, then leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Let us just say I was an unofficial student of Ravelle's 'design and technology' course for a while,"

"Unofficial?" Christine wondered.

"Meaning he hid in the air-ducts and took notes," Giry replied as she glanced over at the two.

He shrugged, "Better then nothing, Antoinette. I learned quite a lot..."

"Yes…" Giry replied. "Though the professors got rather annoyed to find some of their supplies go missing now and then."

"How long have you been living there?" Christine asked as she looked between Giry and Erik.

"Fifteen years now. Ever since Antoinette found me." He answered.

"Found you? Did you just drop out of the sky or something?"

"Erik prevented a vampire from making me Its dinner," Giry explained.

"In return," Erik continued, "she brought me to the College. She was a professor for quite a few years before she became the Dean of Arts,"

"Yes. Well, enough chatter," Giry clapped her hands together. "We ladies are off to the grocery store, and then the mall." She turned to Erik, "I expect a good portion of that foundation to be laid when we return,"

Erik nodded, and the three went their separate ways.

* * *

**Erik's Room – Two weeks later **

Erik was starting to wonder if he should have left Giry's home improvements to someone else as the high-pitched sound of college girls arguing invaded his sensitive ears.

"C'mon, Chrissy! You said I could wear the dress!" That was little Giry.

"But it's MY dress! And _I_ want to wear it tomorrow!" Christine replied.

"RJ is coming over! I want to impress him!" Little Giry argued.

"Ever think there's someone _I_ want to impress too?" Christine asked.

Erik felt a sharp stab in his chest. Had Christine already found herself a boy to crush on? It had been only two weeks since they arrived in the Giry's neighbourhood.

"Oh please! He's the type of guy who'll love you in a pair of sweats!" Little Giry responded.

"And you're saying RJ won't love you unless you look pretty for him?" Christine shot back.

The arguing continued, and Erik found himself growing more and more annoyed.

After a few more minutes of reading the same two lines repeatedly, his copy of "Dracula" went flying across the room.

If those girls didn't stop soon...!

... and then he heard it.

The rip of expensive material… and the explosion that soon followed.

* * *

**Meg's Room **

Christine froze, staring at the ruins of her favourite dress. Meg guiltily held the other half of it. They had been tugging it between them for the last few minutes.

"MEG!" Christine's scream echoed off the walls, "How COULD you!"

"ME?" Meg snapped back, "YOU'RE the one who kept grabbing at it!"

"DID NOT!"

"DID TOO!"

"YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO-"

Both girls were shocked into silence as the door was violently kicked open.

"SHUT UP!" came Erik's deep angry voice. He looked wildly about the room, anger clear in his amber eyes.

Both girls squealed, hugging their respective pieces of Christine's torn dress against their scantily clad bodies. Even though both girls were only in their undergarments, Erik was oblivious to their current state of undress.

"BOTH OF YOU! JUST. SHUT. UP!" he roared.

His attention went to Christine first. "I will BUY you a new dress!" he growled, then turned to Meg, "and I will buy you the SAME damned dress!" He then took them both in, and continued, "… if the two of you will just SHUT UP and let me have some PEACE AND QUIET!"

The two girls nodded nervously, muttering a frightened apology to the angry man in the mask.

"THANK you!" He hissed, then turned around and stormed back to his room.

Meg and Christine looked back at each other, silent a moment before Meg spoke again, "It's YOUR fault he's mad, you know!"

"It is NOT my-" Christine's words were cut off with an angry bang against the wall that separated Erik's room from theirs.

Christine frowned. "Maybe it would be better if I don't stay in this room tonight!"

"And where are you going to sleep?" Meg huffed.

"Wherever! I'll find a place!" Christine snapped, then quickly grabbed her pajamas, toiletries, and pillow, and headed off to shower.

* * *

**Erik's Room – 20 Minutes Later **

Peace and quiet.

Finally!

Erik tugged off his mask and undressed, pulling on a pair of black Lycra shorts before turning in for a good night's rest.

As he drifted off to sleep, he found himself having the sweetest dream:

Christine had come into his room and spoken to him. Was she asking a question? Yes. She wanted permission for something. He muttered in the affirmative. He could never deny her anything, after all.

In his dream, Erik felt Christine carefully slipping beneath the duvet. She did not touch him, instead laying a few inches away. The bed was queen-size: Enough room for a tall man and a diminutive ballet dancer to keep a respectable distance.

Once the girl was settled, however, Erik boldly wrapped an arm around her tiny waist and tugged her back against him.

It was a dream, after all. He could be brave.

He heard Christine give a little gasp of surprise and, after a moment's hesitation, he felt her relax in his embrace. They were soon comfortably curled up beneath the duvet, his chin resting atop her silken hair.

Odd, how her hair was _damp_ in his dream. It was as if she had just come from a shower.

In this lovely illusion, Christine's cotton cami bunched up just a little, allowing the palm of his hand to rest against the warmth of her belly – taut from years of dancing.

Erik then dreamt he felt her fingers entwine with his, heard a soft sigh escape her lips.

To hold his angel... to have her nestled in his arms - it was all he needed. This delicate human contact was far more then he had ever hoped for in his lifetime.

For once, his sleep was not invaded by nightmares. He was not crying out from the painful memories of his childhood, nor was he tortured by the disquieting flashbacks of his numerous executions.

Tonight, his sleep was filled with a peace the likes of which he had never known.

If only he could have this dream every night. If only it could be true...

… and if only his dream-Christine would stop her soft snoring as if she were really there.

**END OF EPISODE 18 **


	19. Episode 19: Confrontation

**_A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir, especially for the fight scene._**

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter**

**Episode 19: Confrontation**

By: Elektra 

**Laramie Drive **

"You still haven't told me where he is!" Laura started as she walked into the Leader's study. "Here I am, eagerly waiting... and you continue to keep secrets!"

He laughed, "But if I told you, would you still come to ME every night? I assure you, I would be far more exciting then him!"

She studied him a moment, "I don't understand, Shay." She began, "I look at you and see the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on... and yet Erik, your son..."

"...is not?" the Leader finished. "Yes. That is often the case when my kind procreate with mortals."

"I would love to know what _your kind_ IS, exactly." Laura replied as she moved before his chair. "Certainly nothing like MY kind..."

He leaned back in his seat and looked up at her, "Tell me, Laura - you were in the same classes as my son way back when," he started, "What did the boys at school call him?" he smirked knowingly.

She shrugged, "Many things - Freak. Monster. Living dead boy. Devil's child. Spawn of Satan-" she stopped, eyes wide, "But YOU'RE not-"

"Oh no no..." he waved a hand dismissively, "Though He's an interesting fellow. I could tell you some stories..."

Laura didn't care at the moment. "Shay, where is my plaything!" she demanded again.

"Hmm... well... I will take you to him soon. But you must know, my dear... once you've lured him, he won't even know what to do with you!" He then grasped Laura's hips and slid her into his lap. "Let me show you a few things you can teach him."

* * *

**Giry Residence - Erik's room **

Christine opened her eyes and rolled over sleepily, only to see Erik sitting beside her on the bed, his back pressed up against the wall, ebony hair covering his face, and long bony fingers clutching desperately at his biceps.

He seemed deeply troubled.

"Erik?" she began, concerned for his well-being.

"Christine." He answered. He was silent a moment, then spoke again. "What happened? How did you come to be _here_...?"

She immediately sat up, taken aback by the question. Didn't he remember? "Well, I had a fight with Meg. You got all pissed off, so I figured it was better if I didn't stay with her last night." She watched him for a moment, then continued. "I came into the room with my pillow and asked you if I could sleep _here _instead. You said it was ok!"

"So... that was NOT a dream then..." he whispered.

"A dream?" Her eyes went wide, "Oh Erik! I thought you were still awake!"

He shook his head. "I was very tired last night, Christine. I fell asleep rather quickly," he turned his head away from her. "If I was aware, I would not have touched you."

She furrowed her brow, "What are you talking about? You _didn't _touch me!" Then she realized his worry, and laughed. "Are you referring to the _cuddle_?"

His head shot up at the ease with which she spoke. "I had no RIGHT to-"

"Erik!" Christine interrupted before he could continue, her voice still cheerful. "I LIKED the cuddle! I haven't been cuddled in a long time. It was _nice_." She pushed herself to her knees and saw he was still upset.

Christine crawled over to him, prying his fingers from his arms as she took his hands. She could see small bruises on his alabaster skin from the tightness of his grip. "What's wrong?"

He simply stared at her - Surprised. Amazed. Confused. "You know what I am. What I am capable of." He yanked his hands from hers and brought them self-consciously to his face, "You have _seen _me. You look at me even _now_. Any other woman would be horrified!"

Christine took a deep breath, and spoke. "I'm NOT any other woman. I'm ME. And I _like_ you. A lot. And I don't mean as a _friend_."

There. She'd said it.

He glanced away, a frown on his pale lips. "No. You _pity_ me." He spat. "Pity me or abhor me. That is all _any_ woman can do!"

Now Christine grew annoyed, "I pity the beggars on the street when I go downtown!" she snapped, "That doesn't mean I've CUDDLED them! Or HUGGED them. Or KISSED-" she suddenly stopped, slapping a hand over her mouth.

Oops. He hadn't been conscious for that.

Erik focused his golden eyes on her, brow furrowed.

Christine ignored his unspoken question, far too angry to explain herself. "You know, sometimes I wonder if that stupid mask totally _blinds _you!"

Without another word, she grabbed her pillow and stormed out of the room.

* * *

**30 Minutes Later **

"Erik..."

Erik froze as he stepped out of his room, having since dressed and masked himself. He turned to see Madame Giry standing before him, arms crossed, lips pursed.

She was not happy.

"Yes, Antoinette?" he asked innocently.

"What happened between Christine and yourself last night?" she demanded.

Erik took a deep breath, "I do not know. I had no idea she was even there. Not until I woke up this morning."

"And why was she running from your room in tears?" Giry pressed. "She's locked herself up with Meg, sobbing,"

"Ah, so they are not arguing any more?" He asked.

"Don't change the subject, Erik!"

"I did nothing horrible to her, if that's what you fear!" He frowned, then glanced away, his voice growing quieter. "She confessed to _liking_ me, as a female likes a male." He shook his head, "I accused her of _pitying_ me, and she accused me of being blind." He explained. "Well, you saw what happened after that."

"Goodness, Erik. You really DON'T know how to behave towards a woman! Do you realize she just admitted one of the hardest things she will ever admit? And you REJECTED her!" Giry was annoyed, "I would have thought you would be more sensitive to such things, given your own history."

Erik frowned. "The women I know either curse the day I was born, or end up one of the undead. So how am I to react when a female tells me she has feelings for me? It was the last thing I ever expected!" He hissed.

Giry sighed. "I suggest you go apologize to the girl when she's in the mood to talk to you again. The sooner the better. I wish to have peace under my roof!"

Erik swore under his breath and headed angrily out into the yard.

* * *

**Giry backyard - later **

Kathleen Bell watched Antoinette Giry's newest houseguest from her adjoining backyard.

She enjoyed observing him as he worked on the wooden deck. Currently, his left hand was gripping a piece of wood - a strong, firm grip - as the long graceful fingers of his right hand checked for knots and rough edges.

Kathleen wondered at the feel of those hands. Would they be soft and limber, or rough and coarse?

Her eye-candy seemed angry about something as he lay the wood and hammered it into place. If she wanted to speak to him, she would have to be careful. His golden eyes were keen and suspicious, the frown on his perfect mouth showed that he would not be easily impressed.

And the mask. Well... she couldn't quite figure that out. Was he, perhaps, scarred? Surely it couldn't be that bad, for beneath the soft black material, she could make out high elegant cheekbones.

She smiled to herself. Even if his face _was _somewhat scarred, a body like his would not be kicked out of her bed. She admired the way his black ribbed tank top showed his lean hard torso, and how his fitted black yoga pants offered her a nice view of his lovely backside.

He was pale. So pale, in fact, that light traces of blue could be seen beneath his skin. It gave him an almost ethereal look. The paleness was a stark contrast to not only his choice in clothing, but the ebony hair he had tied back. She wondered, perhaps, if he was ill.

He was intense in his work. And thorough. She could only imagine what kind of lover he would be.

Kathleen leaned forward on her white picket fence, and continued to enjoy the view... until a sound unlike anything she had ever heard before drifted to her ears.

It was sweet, heartbreaking, and heavenly all at the same time...

_Alas my love you do me wrong  
To cast me off discourteously  
And I have loved you oh so long  
Delighting in your company _

Kathleen's breath caught.

Her eye-candy was SINGING. And it was _beautiful_...

_Greensleeves was my delight  
Greensleeves my heart of gold  
Greensleeves my heart of joy  
And whom but my Lady Greensleeves..._

She didn't even know that song had words.

Kathleen slipped through her gate and made her way around the front, sneaking up the Giry's driveway and through the side of the house, until she was in the backyard.

Her eye-candy stopped what he was doing when he noticed her, and stood up straight. Goodness, he was tall! And he had the most incredible eyes she had ever seen. A golden amber. She was quite sure no one else had eyes like that.

She was even more desperate to know what he hid beneath that mask now...

"Hello," Kathleen held out a neatly manicured hand with hot pink acrylic nails, which matched her hot pink overly tight t-shirt and capri pants ... which, Erik thought, clashed horribly with her blindingly bright red hair. "My name is Kathleen Bell. I'm one of Anti's neighbours."

Kathleen smiled with brightly-painted lips. Erik could see her darkly tanned skin crinkle just a little. She had to be around Giry's age - mid to late 40s, though she seemed rather well preserved. No doubt artificially.

"Anti?" Erik repeated, then realized "Ah... you mean Antoinette..."

"God, you have an amazing talking voice!" She gasped, the very sound of his voice sending pleasant shivers over her skin. It was smooth as silk. "And I heard you singing just before. Beautiful! Angelic, even!"

"Thank you," he answered, and saw she still had her hand out. Antoinette had kindly asked him to be civil to her neighbours. Reluctantly, Erik put his tools down and took the lady's hand, giving a quick squeeze in the hopes for as little contact as possible. "My name is Erik." He attempted to slide his hand from her grip. She seemed unwilling to let go.

She looked down at their entwined hands, "Mmm... nice strong hands..." she spoke softly. "And long... slender fingers..."

Erik studied the woman, not sure if that was a compliment or something else. "Yes, well, I use my hands a lot," he said, yanking himself free.

"I'll just bet you do..." Kathleen said with a wink. Erik was beginning to feel rather uncomfortable. "So, are you here for the summer? I see you're building Anti a deck,"

He nodded, "Yes. She hired me as an independent contractor," he answered.

"Amazing!" She replied, and slithered closer. Erik nearly recoiled as the perfume she wore almost overpowered him. She arched her back ever so subtly, causing her silicon-enhanced chest to nearly make contact with him. He took a step back, despising the thought of being touched. "Do you have a card? I may need some home improvements myself."

Kathleen suddenly heard a girl's voice cry out from the house... and before she could enjoy the rest of her eye-candy's company, he immediately rushed inside.

_Well... damn..._she pouted.

* * *

**Giry Kitchen **

Christine cried out as the knife with which she was cutting celery sliced her finger in the process. She grabbed a tissue and wrapped it around, but the cut was deep, and the blood wouldn't stop.

"Come here!" Erik suddenly grabbed Christine's wrist, having run in from outside when he heard her cry. He quickly dragged her to the bathroom.

He practically pushed her onto the closed toilet seat, and quickly raided the Giry's medicine cabinet, then knelt down before her with the tools he needed.

"This will hurt," he warned, and placed an antiseptic-soaked cotton ball upon the wound. She hissed at the sting. "Hold that on there now," he said as he grabbed a bandage and placed antibiotic ointment on it. "Ok, let go..." she did so, and he quickly wrapped the bandage tight. "This will soak through in a short while, but at least it will stop the bleeding."

"Um... thank you..."

He nodded, then looked up at her from his place on the ground. "Are you still upset with me, Christine? I have been informed that I have yet to learn how to behave towards a woman."

"Just like every other man I know," she smiled sweetly as she brushed a stray strand of hair off his mask. Her hand then rested upon his covered cheek.

He could feel her warmth through the cotton mask and closed his eyes for a moment. Such a simple touch... and yet it meant so much.

When he opened his eyes, Christine's lovely face was so very close to his...

"Very well then," he quickly jumped to his feet, "I am glad that is settled. I will see you later."

Soon, he was in the backyard, engrossed in his work once again.

* * *

**Giry Residence - outside (that night)**

Erik could sense them nearby. Two creatures that had no right to be here. They were watching him. Spying, as it were. Which meant two things.

The Leader knew where he was. And he had just put Christine in danger.

He clutched at the stake in his hands, and walked over to where he sensed them.

Quietly... quietly...

There!

Erik immediately yanked the creature out from It's hiding place behind a birch tree. He shot his fist out, catching It across the temple. The toe of his boot then hit hard in It's stomach, sending It back against the bark and allowing It to become easy fodder for his stake.

The second attacked from behind, and Erik spun around, his long leg sliding out and tripping his attacker to the ground. He quickly dropped a knee hard into its sternum, pinning it to the ground. "How much does he know!" Erik demanded.

"Who?" The Creature asked with feigned innocence.

A rush of anger filled him as he clocked the creature in the jaw, sending tiny spatters of blood spewing out. "HOW MUCH!"

"He knows your weakness!" It laughed at this.

Erik did not find the humour, instead smashing It's head hard against the cement, indulging in the sickening crack of bone against concrete. Once. Twice. Three times before he turned Its body to powder. "I _have_ no weakness!" He spat at the pile of dust.

Erik stood up and brushed the residue from his tank top and pants. He then sat on the stoop of Giry's house. He did not want to go in. Not yet.

He heard the patter of light feet, and soon Christine was sitting beside him. "You're really good at that," she said as she glanced over at the dust. She then looked back at him, "I... I haven't seen one of them since we got here. Does that mean they know?"

Erik nodded. "It means I should leave."

"No!" Christine immediately wrapped her hands around his upper arm, as if he were going to disappear that very moment. "Don't. Please?"

"It would be safer," he replied.

"HOW?" she demanded, "HOW will it be safer? We're still here! They know it. If you leave, we have no protection!" she hugged his arm, "And _I_ don't want you to go!" She then rested her head against his shoulder, her voice a whisper now, "I don't want you to..." She repeated as she slid her hand down his arm and entwined their fingers.

Erik released a shaky breath, but for the first time, Christine noticed he didn't flinch. It gave her hope.

"You make a good point," Erik admitted. "I will have to talk to Antoinette. Perhaps she can call upon some hunters to patrol the area."

A rumble of thunder was heard in the distance, causing Christine to grasp Erik's arm a little tighter then necessary. He glanced at her a moment, then looked at the sky.

A storm was coming.

* * *

**Christine and Meg's room - later**

_Christine... _

A beautiful voice called to Christine as she slept.

_Christine. I love you _

"Erik..." She whispered in response. She wanted to go to him. "Where are you, Erik?"

_Outside. Come see me. I want to give you something... _

"What is it?" Christine asked as she slid out of bed, her mind and body in a blessed trance.

_A kiss. Under the stars. In the backyard. _

"I've been waiting for a kiss, Erik..." She replied as she followed the voice through the kitchen to the sliding door leading outside. She opened it slowly, and stepped through. "It's raining..." Christine noted, but didn't seem overly bothered by the fact she was soaking wet in moments. 

Come to me, Christine. Let me hold you.

She saw him beckoning to her. 

My sweet little angel.

She stood before him now. Looking up into golden eyes. "I'm here..." 

Close your eyes...

She did so, sighing as she felt long slender fingers trace down her jaw, against her neck. 

Kiss me, Christine...

Christine tilted her head up, felt his warm breath on her cheek. His mouth was almost upon hers...

...and she knew something was wrong.

Instead of feeling eager and warm, she grew frightened and chilled. Christine started to back away. 

What are you doing, little angel? Why reject me?

"You make me feel cold..." she answered softly.

"Christine! Get away from him!"

Christine's eyes flew open. She spun around only to see the REAL Erik rushing out into the backyard. She then turned to the man in front of her.

It was Phillip De Chagny's business partner.

Or as Erik called him, _The Leader._

Erik rushed at him in a blur of pale skin. This man... this _thing_ was trying to take advantage of his Christine.

Emotion overwhelmed his discipline as Erik crashed into the Leader, hands reaching for the man's neck. Calmly, the Leader caught Erik by the throat, holding him at arm's length. He shook Erik like a rag doll, and threw him to the ground.

Erik crouched, breathing heavily, just as the Leader connected a kick to his ribs. Erik rolled back, caught himself with a hand to the muddy earth, and wheezed a strained breath in.

Staggering to his feet, he prepared to throw a punch when he felt his knees go out from underneath him. The Leader stood over him and shook his head as Erik groaned.

"Why do you keep rushing your advantage? Not that you could possibly have one, but I thought you were better trained. Would you like to try again?"

Erik stood and waited for a moment as the rain came down harder. He knew Christine was out of the way, but as much as he longed to confirm that, he dared not take his eyes off this _thing_.

He began to walk slowly, feeling the earth give way under his bare feet, until he was in a better position to look at the Leader and Christine.

His breathing labored, Erik quickly brushed his hair out of his eyes and stepped forward into an offensive stance. Three quick strides brought him into contact with his opponent, and Erik managed to connect his right fist with the Leader's jaw as he grabbed for the man's coat. _Drag him down..._thought Erik.

Are you so sure you can? Or that you want to do this in front of that angelic girl?

Erik stayed his second punch. His eyes widened at the voice in his head, and he backed off slightly before lunging forward again. The Leader evaded the second punch and smiled.

_Y__ou cannot best me._

Erik sneered at him and landed his third punch. The leader, however, seemed unfazed.

_She's very pretty. I commend you on your taste._

"Stay the hell away from her!" Erik hissed.

_And what will you do if I don't? **Execute **me?_ _Tell me... how did SHE feel about your talent with a rope? She's a little frightened of you, isn't she? When she first found out, she even ran away. _

"She dealt with it!" Erik insisted. 

Does she now? Then why is she STILL frightened of you? Oh, it's not obvious, but it's always there. At the back of her mind. You scare her... and yet, you excite her at the same time.

Erik shook his head. "I would never hurt her."

_She thinks you're talking to yourself right now. She's starting to wonder at your mental state. She can't hear me, you understand. Only YOU can. She's rather confused._

Erik let out a frustrated shout and tackled the leader to the ground.

Without so much as a sigh, the Leader lifted Erik and threw him off. Erik hit the ground at an angle, his arm pinning and jabbing into his already beaten ribcage.

As he started to push himself up, the Leader was there, and another swift kick to the ribs forced Erik to fall back into the mud.

When Erik's eyesight cleared, the Leader was gone.

Erik climbed gingerly to his feet and stood before Christine, trying to ignore the sharp pain in his ribs. "Are you ok?" he asked.

"I'm okay... but... _you're_ hurt!" Christine worried. "You need to see a doctor!"

Her hands went out to support him, but he waved away her concern. "No... no I'm fine..." he replied breathlessly, but Christine knew he was hiding the pain. Why wouldn't he just let her help?

Once they were back inside, Erik went to the linen closet and grabbed a few towels. He was only wearing his sleep shorts and the towel rid him of the wet mud easily enough. He considered taking a shower... but he could barely stand as it was.

He glanced over to Christine, and saw her pajamas were soaked - albeit much cleaner than his own - And silently cursed himself for finding her current appearance desirable.

Erik immediately wrapped one towel around her shoulders to cover her shivering wet form, then placed another atop her head, massaging his fingers into the material as he attempted to dry her hair.

"How did he get you out there?" he asked.

She looked up at him from under the cloth. "I heard his voice in my head. He... he pretended to be you... and promised me something if I went to you-or _him_, I guess..."

Erik's soggy cotton mask clung to his face like a second skin, allowing Christine to see his facial expression perfectly. He was noticeably perplexed.

"And what could he-or ME, for that matter, possibly promise that would send you out into the rain?"

Christine met his eyes, then rolled to her tiptoes and gently grasped his shoulders, not wanting to hurt him any more then he already was.

One little hand slid up and peeled the mask from his face, letting it slop heavily to the ground. Her other hand slid behind his neck and into his damp hair.

"... _this_..." Christine closed her eyes, the towel falling from her head as she tilted her chin up... and brushed her lips against his.

Erik's entire body went rigid. No words could describe the rush of emotions that suddenly overwhelmed him and threatened to spill over.

He didn't know whether to laugh, or cry, or run, or scream, or _hurt_ her.

Christine could not possibly understand what she had just done to him. She couldn't possibly understand the feelings that had started to stir in his numb soul since the first night he had seen her, the first night he had heard her beautiful voice join him in song.

"Erik?" Christine began nervously as she pulled away, not sure how to read the look on his face, the conflict in his eyes.

"Why!" he hissed harshly, "Why did you just _do_ that?" He could still taste her sweet kiss - like cherries.

His _first_ kiss.

"Because I wanted too," Christine replied.

Erik froze as Christine pulled his head down to hers again, her mouth meeting his once more.

The kiss was firmer this time. Harder. The contact made his senses reel. He felt a rush of heat course through his body, heard his mind screaming at him to respond.

It was almost too much to bear.

Every desire, every emotion that he had tried to push down, push away, now came to the surface. He wanted to remember this moment, remember her touch, her warmth, her taste, her smell.

_Christine... angel..._

His hands suddenly pressed against her back, crushing Christine's little body against his own. He pulled a gasp from the girl that parted her lips, intimately deepening the kiss with her inadvertent submission.

She was going to push him away, he was sure of it. What woman would not? What woman would not find his physical affections repulsive? Offensive?

But he could not stop himself as he slid one hand over her shoulder, trailing up her neck until his fingers were cupping her wet cheek.

_Please forgive me, Christine... you just taste so sweet... _

Her reaction was the last thing he expected.

Christine reached up and slid her arms around his neck, responding eagerly.

Erik's instincts took over as he tangled his long graceful fingers in her hair, the towel around her shoulders slipping to the floor.

His mouth pressed firmer as a strong arm wrapped tightly around her waist and lifted the girl off the ground. The pain and exhaustion from his fight with the Leader disappeared as he felt her wet form pressed against his own, setting his cold body on fire.

Christine couldn't help but whimper out a delighted response...

...and Erik immediately broke the kiss.

He quickly lowered the girl back to her feet and stumbled back, frightened. Breathless. He shook his head desperately, appearing to be on the verge of a breakdown.

"Christine! I'm sorry!" He cried out. "I shouldn't have! I ... I didn't mean to-"

The agony of his fight suddenly returned with full force, causing Erik to let out a distressed groan as he clutched his ribs painfully. He clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut. _You wicked, evil, ugly monster! _His silent voice taunted. _Your physical suffering is no more then you deserve! How dare you force such a kiss on your angel? How dare you taint her with your touch?_

"I... I'm so sorry!" Erik gasped out, then quickly spun around and raced into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Christine simply remained in place, stunned as she brushed her fingers over her lips.

"Erik?" she called out, but received no answer. He had been so quick to leave that he had even forgotten his mask. She picked it up and stared at it.

Then she grew annoyed.

"Damn it, Erik!" she shouted, not caring if Meg or Madame Giry heard her now. "You don't just _kiss_ a girl like that then run away!"

**END OF EPISODE 19 **

* * *

**_Extra A/N: The song Erik sings while working in the backyard was the traditional song, "Greensleeves". The particular version quoted was recorded by Canadian music artist Loreena McKennitt._**


	20. Episode 20: Unwanted Company

A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter**

**Episode 20: Unwanted Company **

By: Elektra

"Why did you come after me?" Erik demanded as he saw Christine slowly open his door and enter the room, his wet mask in her hand. He was laying on the bed, an arm over his ribs.

"Why did you run away?" Christine asked in return as she sat beside him. She gently reached out and brushed her fingers over the battered skin of his torso. It was starting to bruise. "The Leader hurt you…"

He quickly pushed her hand away.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Do you even have to _ask_ that?" he hissed. "You kissed me... _me_. A man who has never been touched! A man who has been denied every normal human desire, want and need for over thirty years! And you... sweet naïve little Christine, thought it was safe? Did you have any idea what you were doing!" He closed his eyes, his anger a mix of both physical pain and intense emotion. "Damn it, Christine. WHY?"

"You know why. I already TOLD you why!" She hung his wet mask off the bedpost to dry.

"Yes. You said you liked me. As more than a friend." He shook his head, "But I am NOT a likeable person, Christine! You KNOW I've done things - terrible things – that you should hate me for!" He looked up at her. "Despise me. Fear me. Run from me. But don't _care_ for me!" He looked away, his voice barely a whisper, "Regardless if I-" he stopped, not wanting to speak the word.

Christine swallowed the lump in her throat, her heart pounding in her chest. _What was he going to say?_

"Erik?" she began, but he didn't let her continue

"You don't understand what you're dealing with here!" Erik replied, his voice growing angry once more, "This is not a GAME, Christine!" He hit a fist against the mattress, and winced as the pain shot up his arm and went straight to his ribs.

"I KNOW it's not a game, Erik! I don't play games like that!" Christine protested. "What I said is _true_!" She wanted to cry. She wanted to run from his room, from his refusal to believe her, curl up into a ball and cry.

Erik glanced at Christine, but only turned his head away again. He then attempted to push himself into a sitting position, settling the pillows behind him. Every movement was agony.

Finally, with much effort, he was comfortable. "And how true could it be? Not even my_ mother_ could care for me."

"STOP IT!" Christine shouted, "Stop comparing me to HER! I'm CHRISTINE, not MADELINE. And _I_ care for you. I'm sorry you don't – or WON'T – believe that, but I won't have you accuse me of playing games and lying to you!"

Tears filled her eyes, "If I could heal all your wounds, I _would_, but I can't! I can only-" she stopped, her voice cracking as she felt Erik slide an arm around her waist.

He tugged her beside him as best he could without straining his injuries, and shifted his body ever so slightly to meet her eyes. He couldn't bear to see her cry. "Christine, you are a darling girl… but I have no right to accept you. No right to-"

He could not finish as Christine placed a finger over his lips. "What were you going to say earlier, Erik? _Regardless if I_-WHAT, Erik?" she asked. He said nothing. "Tell me!"

He opened his mouth, closed it, then took a deep breath and finally answered, "Regardless if I… am fond of you." It was all he was willing to admit, lest he frighten her away with an overt admission.

She offered him a knowing smile, quite aware he was downplaying his feelings. "Okay then. Don't protest my affection any more. Because I'm _fond of you_ too."

Christine positioned herself more comfortably, sliding down just a little to rest her head against his shoulder. "Kiss me?" she pleaded.

He simply stared at her a moment, not quite sure if he heard right.

"You are not drunk, are you?" he asked. "Or be-spelled still?"

"Erik!" she scolded, and he saw she was serious this time. Very serious.

He made no move… then gasped as he felt the intimate brush of her soft lips against his neck, another brush against the underside of his jaw.

He stared in wonder as she gently grasped his chin, tilting his face down so he could reach her without moving his aching body too much.

He licked his lips nervously, and tasted cherry lip-gloss from her earlier kiss. Where had he tasted that before?

It came to him then – when he was unconscious in the hospital, he had woken with the taste on his lips. He'd had no idea.

He swallowed hard, then pressed his forehead against hers. "Christine," he began softly, then steeled his nerve as he brushed his lips lightly against hers.

He pulled back quickly, waiting for the rejection. Yes, she kissed him earlier. Yes, she asked him to kiss her now. But after so many years being tormented and rejected by both male and female alike, it was all he expected.

"You can do better. You showed me that earlier," she replied.

Christine looked up at him eagerly. He was surprised at her boldness, but tugged her as close as his aches and pains allowed.

Though he lacked any experience in such matters, Erik slowly brought his mouth down against hers once more, surprised as she parted her lips to offer more intimacy. Erik gave into his instinct, his fingers tracing their way down Christine's spine.

She leaned into his touch and remembered how very angry she had been at Bobby the Pervert for daring to run a finger down her spine. She had thought then that that it was the type of thing Erik would do…

… and she rather liked Erik _doing_ it.

Her hands traveled over his horrid face before tangling her fingers in his damp hair, increasing the intensity of the kiss.

Erik suddenly broke away, gasping for breath.

"I… ahh… I think you should go," he said breathlessly, bringing his arms back and wrapping them tightly around his ribs. He clenched his eyes shut. "If you stay… I will end up permanently hurting myself…" His voice was strained, but she could hear the light jest.

"And besides…" he continued, "I think I enjoyed kissing you a little too much… "

"Better then NOT enjoying it," Christine smiled.

He shook his head. "Even then, Christine - 30 years, _remember_? 30 years without so much as a hug, and now, here you are, holding me. _Kissing _me," he let out a soft sigh, "It's just…. I am not used to physical affection." He ran a pale hand through his ebony hair, "And I fear for my restraint."

"If I want you to stop, I'll _tell _you," Christine started. "Until then, you have my permission to kiss me whenever you want, as much as you want, and as long as you want."

Erik closed his eyes. "Perhaps. But for now, it's best you head off. Let me try and soak all this in," he glanced back at her. "I am not exactly used to hearing a woman talk about how much she cares for me,"

Christine leaned forward and placed a kiss against his temple. "You'll get used to it soon enough. I'll make sure of that," she stood up. "Good night, Erik. And…promise me something?"

"Yes, angel?" he asked.

Christine smiled at the nickname. "Promise me you'll get your ribs looked at tomorrow? It'll be worse if you don't."

He nodded in acknowledgement, then spoke, "Christine… if you would be so kind… could you… get me a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water?"

Christine heart leapt at the very fact he was asking her for help – or at least, the closest thing to it. "Of course!"

"Thank you," he replied. Christine left the room, only to return moments later with the pills and water. He thanked her again and took the pills. "Good night, Christine…"

Erik then closed his eyes and lay back once more, allowing the medication to pull him under.

"Goodnight, Erik…" Christine replied, then kissed him gently on the forehead before leaving the room and closing the door softly behind her.

* * *

**DeChagny Residence – Philip's Study (the next morning)**

"Hey, Phil?" Raoul started as he came into his brother's study, "Can I borrow the Beamer for a few days?"

Philip looked at his brother with a raised eyebrow. "May I ask why?"

"I want to visit Chrissy. She's staying with the Girys for the summer. I hope to hang around for a bit. Maybe get a hotel near by …"

"And then what?" Philip asked.

Raoul shrugged. "Maybe I can convince her to come back with me for the summer? Not that I have a problem with the Girys, but Christine was telling me Madame Giry needed help around the house. And really… Chrissy shouldn't have to do that."

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe she doesn't mind?" Philip asked.

"Well, I _know_ she doesn't mind… she's a sweet girl. But still. She could have a nice luxurious summer here instead!"

Philip sighed, then shook his head, "Do what you want, Ray, even though I don't think Christine is all that worried about living in luxury. The Beemer is yours. Just bring it back in one piece."

"Got it! Thanks Phil!" Raoul replied, and headed off to pack his things. He would head out tomorrow.

And maybe he could win her back.

* * *

**Giry Residence – Meg's room**

"Well? Is he at least a good kisser?" Meg asked Christine eagerly as Christine related the previous night's events.

"He doesn't have any experience with it… but I swear, it must be some inborn talent." Christine smirked. "He gave me _goose-bumps_, Meg! Made me feel like I was something special!"

Christine then looked away, a slight frown on her lips. "But then he got all noble on me. He said something about lacking restraint, and that was the end of it." She sighed in disappointment.

"Better noble and restrained then perverted and grabby, Chrissy," Meg smiled, then grew serious. "What about the intruder he fought off. Did you call the police?" Meg asked worriedly.

_Oh yes. The intruder. That's the story we gave her. _Christine recalled. She hated lying to Meg, but it wasn't her place to tell her friend what her own mother didn't want her to know.

"The police said there's nothing they can do except patrol the area," Christine explained. "You… uh… may see some shady guys hanging around the next little while. They're cops though… so it should be ok." Christine knew the Guild had been called that morning. They were to keep an eye out for the Leader.

"I hope Erik will still be well enough to have some fun with," Meg joked.

Christine blushed at that and grew rather uncomfortable. "It was a _kiss_, Meg…"

"You said it was a _few _kisses…" Meg pointed out, "A few _good_ kisses. And good kisses lead to OTHER good things." She studied her friend a minute. "But, you _will _be careful, won't you? We don't need any mini-Eriks running around."

"MEG! It's… we haven't! I'm not … WE'RE not ready for that! Not yet!" Christine gasped, then shook her head. "It's already taken care of anyhow."

Meg furrowed her brow. "But you and Raoul never-"

"NO! Of COURSE not!" Christine sputtered. "I just didn't want a repeat of the _white leotard_ incident."

Meg winced as she remembered Christine's most embarrassing moment on stage. She then put a relieved hand to her chest. "Well, when you're ready, you know who to talk to." She winked. "I can certainly tell you some things…"

* * *

**Laramie Drive – The Leader's Office**

"Tell me, Shay... if you get Erik where you want him, WILL you let me have my fun too?" Laura Ashton asked the man sitting at the desk before her.

"Of course, my dear! Surely the boy is going to need some kind of physical relief now and then." The Leader answered.

"Then why are you trying to keep him from me?"

"I'm not keeping you from him at all. But I need him to acquiesce to me first, you understand. I want to have a little heart-to-heart with my son."

Laura raised an eyebrow and frowned. "Maybe you'll break his arm during your next heart-to-heart!"

He laughed at that. "Do you honestly think I hurt him all that much? I gave him a beating that would send most men to intensive care. But Erik... Erik is _not_ most men. He has a few bruises, sore ribs... but no permanent damage. He's stronger then you think, Laura."

"What do you want from him anyway?"

The Leader shrugged, "I want what most men want - an heir and an ally."

She furrowed her brow, "That's it? An heir and an ally? I thought you needed his help to take over the world or something." She seemed disappointed.

"Taking over the world is overrated. I don't WANT this world. I simply want to cause havoc WITHIN it. It's what my kind does, after all." He smiled coldly. "When bad things happen, who do you think causes it?" he asked. "Face it, my dear - Without us, this world would be so very boring..."

"Why don't you just have another kid and get HIM to be your heir?" she asked.

The Leader's voice grew quiet. "Because we are not always able to procreate. I found that out the hard way. I tried to do so with other women after Madeline had Erik... but I realized it was not to be. That was it. By the time I understood how rare such things were, it was too late. When I had returned to check on him and his mother, I found she had been carted away to jail and the boy had disappeared into thin air. I only found him recently."

He glanced at Laura, a small smirk on his lips. "If YOU hadn't been looking for him, I never would have." He raised an eyebrow. "Did I ever properly thank you for that?"

"No," she replied haughtily, nose in the air, "You never did!"

He stood up and took her hand, "Perhaps, then, I should spend the rest of the day and night thanking you..."

"Day... AND ... night?" she gasped.

"Unless you object," he replied.

She simply smiled, "Oh how I do hope your son is as energetic as you,"

"Well, judging from our fight, it seems Erik has as much stamina as myself. Otherwise, I would have killed him easily instead of merely injuring him."

This earned a gleeful squeal from Laura, and the two quickly headed out of the office.

**

* * *

**

**Giry's Kitchen – the next day**

"How are you feeling today?" Giry asked Erik as the two sat in the kitchen before the sliding screen to watch Christine and Meg have a splashing contest in the newly cleaned and filled pool.

"Sore. I was told bruised ribs usually take two weeks to heal. I am sure, however, that it will take me less then that. Until then..." he held up his bottle of prescription painkillers.

"Watch how many of those you take, Erik. They can be rather addictive,"

"I have found something far more addicting," he replied as he glanced over to Christine. His voice suddenly grew quiet. "She kissed me, Antoinette."

Giry raised an eyebrow, noticeably surprised. "Really? So that is what Meg and Christine were giggling about yesterday,"

Erik nodded, "My first kiss. Thirty-one years old, and it was my first kiss..."

"Be mindful, Erik. She is still young. She may not understand the consequences of her actions."

"I have said as much to her. She made it very clear that she understood." Erik then looked at Giry, the realization hitting him. "You _knew_, didn't you!"

She shrugged innocently, "I had an inkling that perhaps her interest in you went beyond simply platonic, yes..." She looked back at him. "I thought you deserved to know that not all people see you as some horrid monster, Erik. That you are as capable of being loved as anyone."

She studied him a moment, "But you do understand she is not going to drag you to a church and marry you any time soon,"

Erik shook his head, "Being in a church is the last thing I expect, Antoinette. _Murderers_ are not usually on the best of terms with the so-called powers that be." He paused a moment and glanced over at Christine. "I do not deserve such an angel..."

"That is for _her _to decide. She may change you more than you think," Giry replied.

"I want to change for _her_." He glanced away, then spoke again. "But I must watch myself around her, Antoinette. I cannot lose control."

She studied him a moment. "Lose control?" she asked.

"Intense emotion brings out things better left hidden." His voice grew softer. "It almost did. After she first kissed me, I… grabbed her… lifted her up. She would not have been able to get free..." he stopped, not wanting to voice what he may or may not have done. "If not for the pain in my ribs, I do not know what would have happened. And yet… she still came to me. Asked me to kiss her again." He shook his head. "You know I am not used to physical affection, Antoinette. I am not sure how to react or when to reign myself in. When Christine kissed me, I became overzealous. I hope I did not frighten her."

Giry knew telling Erik that she had overheard Christine babbling excitedly to Meg about the very thing which concerned him would be pointless. He would never allow himself to believe that the girl actually _enjoyed_ his fervent attention.

Erik's jaw tensed. "I must have _ultimate _restraint," he continued. "I cannot allow my desires to override my mind. I care far too much for Christine."

Giry commended him on his attempt to be a gentleman, yet she could not help but wonder if Christine would see his _restraint_ as _rejection_ instead. Young girls could be rather sensitive about such things.

"I thought I heard you girls!" A male voice entered the backyard.

Erik immediately jumped to his feet, trying not to let the pain show from his sudden movement. "What is HE doing here?" He hissed fiercely as the handsome Raoul DeChagny walked to poolside.

"What was that about showing restraint?" Giry asked sternly.

"Show restraint with HER. I said nothing about HIM!" Erik replied with a scowl.

Giry simply let out a tired sigh.

* * *

"Raoul!" Christine spoke as she climbed out of the pool, her tone surprised. She glanced to the screen door to see Erik practically fuming. "Um… Raoul… what… what are you doing here?" 

Raoul took in her current state of dress, and smiled. "Did I ever tell you how great you look in a bikini, Chrissy?"

Erik suddenly walked out of the house and appeared behind the brunette, wrapping a large towel around her shoulders and covering the aforementioned bikini as he glared at the young blonde man before him.

Raoul's eyes went wide at the sight of the man. "Don't tell me you FOLLOWED her here! You really _are _some freak stalker!"

"NO! Raoul… please!" Christine began quickly, "Madame Giry invited him here to build the deck!" She indicated the mess of wood off to the side and the half-built deck in front of the sliding doors.

Erik's eyes met Raoul's. "And fix the roof… and patch a few holes in the wall… and paint the outside of the house…" he pointed out, making it clear that he wasn't going to be leaving any time soon.

"Since when can you do all that?" Raoul asked suspiciously.

"You forget what I do for a living, DeChagny!" Erik replied. "You think I only _design_? I am quite familiar with hands-on work as well!"

Raoul sneered. "Fine! As long as you just keep your hands OFF Chrissy!"

"RAOUL!" Christine snapped.

"What about his lips?" Meg snickered quietly.

"Megan Giry!" Madame Giry spoke as she marched herself out to the backyard. Giry looked at the young man before her. "Come inside, Raoul. You look like you could use a cold drink…"

Raoul nodded. "Yes, Madame. Thank you." He replied, oblivious to what Meg had just implied. He chalked it up to her quirky sense of humour as the group headed into the house.

* * *

**Giry kitchen**

Erik stood leaning against the wall off to the side, keeping as far away from the blonde boy as possible. They exchanged a few dirty looks, but said nothing to one another as he chatted with Christine, Meg, and Giry.

Erik scowled beneath his mask. How easily the boy charmed the three women. Erik felt quite invisible as the group talked about this, that, and the next thing.

_Everything but what happened between myself and Christine, _Erik noted. Nothing had been said aside from Meg's sly comment, which DeChagny had obviously not taken seriously.

Christine glanced over to him, and met his eyes, as if waiting for him to mention something.

When Erik remained silent, she turned back to the conversation. Erik swore under his breath, and left the kitchen.

It was not his place to tell Christine's ex-boyfriend about the latest events, even though she seemed rather hesitant to bring it up herself.

Erik scolded himself as he walked into the foyer – and what _about_ the latest events? What had it meant? She liked him, so she said. But really, they were not _together._ What right did he have to expect anything from her?

Erik was startled out of his thoughts when his phone went off. He quickly grabbed it from his belt, and spoke.

"Hello?" a pause as he waited. "Pareau Women's Prison?" he asked when the lady on the other line informed him of her name and place of business. "Madeline Renau? She has nothing to do with me!" he answered. "…. is she now? I do not know why she gave you my number!"

Erik took a deep breath, trying to calm his temper as the woman on the other line continued. "No. I refuse to take responsibility for her! I am currently staying with someone for the summer, and I cannot-" he was interrupted, and swore under his breath. He was not happy to hear what he was being told. "Very well. I will accompany her. But I will not be held accountable for her behaviour!" Another pause as he waited. "You make sure her parole officer does his job then. _Goodbye_!"

"Erik? What was that about?"

Erik spun around to see Christine standing a few feet away. "Aren't you busy talking to your _ex_?" he snipped.

She blinked at that. "What? Yes… but… you came out here upset. I wanted to know-"

He angrily flipped his phone closed and placed it back on his belt. "You did not mention me to him _once _during your entire conversation, Christine!" he interrupted.

She looked uncomfortable for a moment. "I… I don't know how to tell him…" she said softly.

"Ah, I see," he began. "Should we play a game then? I will pretend I care nothing for you and that you did not say you cared for _me_. That you did not lead me to believe you had a female's interest in me. Perhaps I will also pretend that it does not bother me to have your EX in the house with the impression that he can win you back. And perhaps I will be so good at this game that in time, it will become _truth_."

"Erik, that's not-"

Erik moved closer to her, silencing the petite girl as he continued to speak, his voice harsh. "Would you like that, Christine?" He hissed. "Would you like the game to become truth? Are you starting to think that perhaps you made a mistake now? That perhaps you would be better off back with HIM? His handsome face, his pretty car, his wealth… and his _normality_?"

"I'm SICK of you getting bitchy at me!" she snapped angrily. "God, why do I even have all these confusing _feelings_ for you?"

"I wonder that myself!" He replied. "I told you that I am not a _likeable_ person, and what you're seeing now is exactly what I was referring to. I would rethink your choice here, Christine. I have never been considered a _stable_ man!"

His voice then grew expressionless as he cocked his head to the side. "To be honest… it seems that seeing you chatting with DeChagny stirred something inside. Jealousy? Is that what this is? I suppose it must make you feel good to know you incite such emotion in me."

"I don't want to incite NEGATIVE emotions in you, Erik! Only GOOD ones! Why can't you get that?"

He simply scoffed at her comment, and turned away.

Christine was silent for a moment. She took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair, her voice growing softer as she tried to reign in her emotions. "Who were you talking to?" she asked, trying to change the subject. She had a feeling there was more to his foul mood than simply Raoul's visit. "I heard you referring to a woman… and a parole officer. Who's the woman, Erik?"

He turned his back to her, his tone growing cold. "It doesn't matter. I am merely being called upon to accompany this person to a halfway house, then I do not have to see her again. From there, she can find herself a job and a more suitable home. That is all."

"Who IS she, Erik!" Christine demanded with an angry stamp of her foot.

Erik spun on her, "Someone you are better off not knowing!" he replied.

"If she's in JAIL, then maybe it's better if _you _didn't know her either!"

"If only it were that easy. But I am afraid I do not have a _choice_ in the matter!"

Another voice inserted itself into the conversation, "I should have figured that YOU would hang out with convicts!" Raoul spoke as he came out into the hall and glared at Erik. "I _knew _something was wrong with you!"

"Raoul, please," Christine replied, "Stay out of this."

"No!" Raoul protested, "I'm sorry, Christine. But if you're buddies with a guy who's in contact with criminals, then I _need_ to get involved in this!"

Erik was growing angrier by the minute. "You know NOTHING about me, DeChagny! Do not presume to JUDGE me!" he hissed.

"I'll judge you if I want to judge you!" Raoul insisted, "I've seen nothing even remotely likeable about you. You're rude, inconsiderate, bad-tempered, violent, and what's worse - you follow young girls around who obviously have NO interest in you! Why don't you go back to the hole you crawled out from and STAY there!"

Erik's hands balled into fists, and it was only Giry's presence out of the corner of his eye that prevented him from punching the young man in his perfect face. She had just stepped out of the kitchen, and he had far more respect for the woman then to start a fight under her roof.

He turned to Christine, amber eyes ablaze. "It seems your EX believes I force my attentions on women who have no interest in me." Erik started. "Is he right, Christine? Did I misunderstand things the other night? If so, then I will leave here immediately to save you from suffering my presence any longer. It is up to you!"

Without another word, Erik spun around and stormed out the front door of the house.

Raoul turned to Christine. "What was _that _comment about? What happened the other night?" he demanded.

"Please, Raoul… let's sit down." Christine answered.

"Tell me what he's talking about, Christine." Raoul demanded.

Meg now stood beside her mother. "Do you want ME to tell him, Chrissy?" she asked softly. "Because if you _don't_, Erik will think-"

"I KNOW what Erik will think!" Christine interrupted.

"Well now," Giry started calmly, "I cannot afford to have my contractor leave his job half-finished. I request you take care of this _problem_ immediately." Giry studied the brunette before her, her voice growing serious. "Do not play with Erik, Christine. Either let him know your intentions, or tell him you have none and leave the poor man alone."

"And what _intentions _does she supposedly have?" Raoul asked.

Christine pressed her fingers against her temples and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. After a moment, she held her hand out for Raoul. "Come out back. We need to talk."

* * *

**Outside the Giry Residence**

Erik sat upon the stoop of the Giry's front door, noting that it had gotten dark since he had last been outside. He buried his head in his hands and thought on what had just happened inside.

He'd had no right to snap at Christine. Jealousy was new to him. He believed that at any moment, she would look at his face and realize she would rather have kissed a man who _didn't_ look like a corpse. Or that she would prefer to have feelings for a man less temperamental. Someone safer.

The current ache in his ribs was nothing now compared to the ache in his chest. What if he had turned her away permanently with his outburst? With his need to hide Madeline's current situation from her.

Then again, how does a man tell the woman he loves that his mother is a prostitute? A recovering drug addict? A petty thief?

Erik suddenly lifted his head up and narrowed his eyes, sensing a presence a few feet away.

He did not need this now. Not when he was suffering bruised ribs and a foul mood. He quickly jumped to his feet and walked down the driveway to the sidewalk.

It was nearby. He knew it.

Erik heard a low deep growl as his prey snuck up behind him. Erik spun around to face It as It immediately advanced on the Hunter, sending a fist at Erik's head which he instinctively blocked, trying not to wince from the stress it put on his injuries.

The two dropped into a half-crouch and began circling each other cautiously. Erik slid a hand into his pocket – only to be reminded that he had run from the house weaponless, far too distracted to grab one before heading out.

His quarry launched an uppercut flying toward his jaw, sending the unprepared man sprawling. Erik quickly regained his balance and shot his foot out, hooking the creature behind Its leg and sending It crashing to the ground.

Erik jumped to his feet and immediately regretted such a sudden movement. He winced as fire spread through his torso, but ignored it as he broke a twig off a nearby tree - it was the closest thing to a weapon that he had access to at the moment.

The creature regained Its balance and tried to ram Its elbow into Erik's face, but the hunter sidestepped it deftly. Erik's eyes narrowed as he grew angrier, rushing at his quarry and tackling it to the ground.

Instinct took over, causing Erik to momentarily forget is injuries – until a fist in his midsection reminded him. He stumbled back, clutching at his midsection as he cried out.

The Creature seemed surprised for a moment, then seeing an opportunity, brought a fist hard against Erik's ribs once more. Erik bit back the pain and backhanded the creature, knocking it down before rolling It onto It's stomach and pressing his knee into Its back.

He then swung the tree twig into Its torso with deadly efficiency, leaving nothing but a pile of dust in his quarry's place.

Erik remained in place, catching his breath as he tried to stop his ribs from throbbing.

"What the hell…?" Erik heard a voice sputter desperately. He spun around to see DeChagny standing in the doorway of the Giry house.

The boy then ran inside, and returned moments later with Christine. Erik calmly got to his feet and dusted himself off.

Christine ran up to Erik, looking concerned. "Raoul says you were with a man out here. That you were fighting!" she took his hands, startling him with a gentle kiss to his knuckles. "Are you ok? Did he hurt you worse?"

Erik closed his eyes a moment - the worry in her voice was almost heartbreaking, her tender gesture of affection making it clear that she _did_ care for him after all.

Guilt consumed him, filling him with shame at how harsh he had been with his little angel earlier. "Christine, I-"

"He killed him!" Raoul interrupted, pointing a shaking finger. "I SAW it!" He turned to Christine. "You've fallen for a _murderer_ Christine…"

Erik was both surprised at the fact Christine had told Raoul she had _fallen_, and pained by the fact the boy was closer to the truth than he knew.

Erik was not about to admit such things to him though. "I see no dead man here," he replied. "Perhaps YOU would like to look?"

"You hid the body!" Raoul accused.

"In the two seconds it took for you to run inside the house and grab Christine?" Erik asked with a frown.

Christine glanced at the faint dust around Erik's feet and knew what had happened. No doubt one of the Leader's lackeys had shown up.

"You have a weapon! I saw it!" Raoul indicated the object in Erik's hand.

With an impatient sigh, Erik held the twig up. "You saw _this_, DeChagny. I found it on the ground, no doubt having broken off a tree. We had quite the storm a few nights ago."

Raoul looked at Christine, as if expecting confirmation. She shrugged innocently, "Well, we DID have a pretty bad storm. Lighting, thunder. Wind."

Raoul glanced between the two of them, grew annoyed, and marched back in the house, saying nothing to either of them for the rest of the night.

* * *

**Erik's Room - later**

Erik was sitting on his bed against a pile of pillows, book in hand, when he heard the soft knock on his door. "Come in, Christine…" he said, quite certain who it was.

She went up to him, hugging her cotton robe around herself as she sat on the bed. "I have intentions." She stated simply.

He studied her a moment, brow furrowed. _Intentions_?

"_More than friendly _intentions," she answered as if she had read his mind.

Erik didn't know how to respond. Did this mean that she had chosen HIM over the pretty boy?

Christine bit her lip nervously. "I'm sorry I didn't tell Raoul when he first showed up. It was … awkward. You just don't blurt that kind of thing out to an ex."

Erik was still surprised at Christine's decision, then finally spoke. "I showed you and DeChagny a rather offensive side of my personality tonight, didn't I?" He asked, then glanced away. "I apologize for that, Christine. I felt… protective, I suppose."

She raised an eyebrow. "You mean _possessive_."

He turned back to her, and nodded in shame. "I'm afraid I'll behave like that on occasion. This… this will take some getting used to. Please forgive me for anything I've done, or _will _do." He lowered his eyes, voice growing quiet. "I've never _had _someone, Christine. Let alone a _female _someone."

"Erik…" Christine's voice grew soft, taking his hand. "Speaking of females…" she met his eyes. "Who is she? This person you know in jail?"

Erik took a deep breath. "Yes. You deserve an answer to that… but I ask you not to tell anyone – especially not DeChagny, or he'll think even less of me than he already does. The only other person who knows about it is Antoinette."

Christine nodded, and waited.

"It's Madeline." He answered bluntly

Christine's eyes went wide. "Your _mother_?"

"She's been in and out of jail for the last 20 years," He explained. "Either drugs, prostitution, or thievery. She finishes one sentence, then re-offends and is thrown back in."

"She's being released on parole - again - at the end of the month, and for some reason she told her handlers to call _me_, claiming I was the only living relative she was in contact with. I was asked to be there to accompany her as the authorities check her into a halfway house."

He was quiet for a moment, then spoke again. "I should tell you something else – in case it comes back to haunt us." He looked back at her. "At age fifteen, I myself spent a night in jail - after Laura's unfortunate accident."

"Erik! Why?"

He glanced away. "They thought I had purposely chased her into traffic." He then let out a cold chuckle. "It's odd - the only person who talked to me like a _human_ that night was some little girl. Apparently, her father was reporting his car stolen. Halloween, I remember now."

He slumped back against his pillows. "The police took my mask so they could take mug shots, then left me handcuffed in the squad room with my face bared to the world. I'd be embarrassed to repeat some of the terms I heard others use when they caught a glimpse of me." He explained.

"When that little girl saw my face, though, she grew curious and said it was a good _trick_, then asked if I could make myself _pretty_. I look back on it now and realize she's the first female I've known NOT to be disgusted by the sight."

Erik glanced back at Christine, a warning tone in his voice. "This is not information I share freely, you understand?"

Christine nodded, then was silent for a moment, nibbling her lower lip. "Erik," She began. "The little girl…" she took a shaky breath. "Was her name Chrissy?"

Erik met Christine's beautiful blue eyes… and remembered those same eyes in a much younger face. "Christine?" He gasped softly, "It was _you_?"

She shrugged sheepishly. "I… would have mentioned it before, but it never came up. I remember you, Erik. I was only little, but I remember."

"You looked so sad that night," she continued. "You still do sometimes." She traced her fingers over his mask. "I don't want you to be sad any more, Erik." Christine slid her arms around his neck, gently brushing her lips against the underside of his jaw.

When she pulled away, Erik's eyes were closed. The expression through the cotton mask was calm and relaxed, as if he were savouring the moment. He seemed to appreciate every little sign of physical affection he was given.

"I know you don't share much about your past," Christine continued. "But I want to know. I want you to tell me. I'm probably going to poke and prod, and you're probably going to get really pissed off about it… but I already know the worst of your secrets." She paused. "Don't I?"

He nodded as he opened his eyes, a ghost of a smile upon his lips. "Yes. What you know _is_ the worst of it."

"Good." Christine was relieved, and decided now was the moment to take a chance. "Erik?"

"Hmm?"

Christine took a deep breath… then got straight to the point.

"Can I meet your mom?"

**END OF EPISODE 20**


	21. Episode 21: Revelations

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir **_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter**

**Episode 21: Revelations**

By: Elektra

**Giry Residence – living room**

Erik was lounging on the couch against a small pile of pillows, long legs stretched out, book in hand, when he heard the quiet footsteps cross the carpet and stand beside him. "Hello, angel." He said, knowing who it was without looking up.

"Hey there. I'm looking for a place to hide from Meg and RJ's really loud argument," Christine said as she sat down beside him, reaching out to pet the small kitten curled up on his legs. "Kuroneko", he had called this one. It was Japanese for, quite simply, "black cat."

"What is Little Giry upset about now?" he asked, recalling that RJ was staying in the study, but was obviously currently arguing with Meg in her room – a room which Christine shared.

Christine shrugged, "He's not exactly Mr. Romantic, and Meg thinks he's taking her for granted."

"People take others for granted frequently. They don't know what it's like NOT to have someone…"

"Like you?" Christine asked.

"Yes. Like me." Erik replied, then glanced at her, placing a graceful hand atop hers. "I ask that you tell me if I'm ever mistreating you in any way."

Christine smiled, "I think I already did."

"Touché," Erik replied, knowing she was referring to their argument about Raoul a short while ago. "Sometimes I need to be reminded how... _bitchy_... I can be."

"And I'll be sure to remind you." Christine replied. She then nodded to the book now resting on his stomach. "What are you reading?"

"Mary Shelley's Frankenstein," he answered. "It is one of my favourite novels – well, the original version she wrote, not the many retellings," he added.

"Ooooh… read to me?" she asked excitedly.

"I'm already on Chapter 15. It might be difficult to follow."

"Let me guess - it's about this scientist who makes a living man out of human body parts?" Christine asked. She slid down to lay beside him, making room for herself on the couch. If she hadn't been so small, she would have no doubt fallen off.

Christine took Erik's arm and tugged it around herself, curling against his side as she rested a head upon his shoulder.

"Well, that's the basic idea," he answered, slightly taken aback by how easily the girl could curl up with him. _Then again, she's made it very obvious she likes such things_, he reminded himself as he thought of the night she had stayed in his room.

"There's a bit more to the story then that," he continued quickly, pushing the memory away. If that night were repeated now, he was quite sure his restraint would collapse completely.

He saw Christine waiting, and continued. "At this point in the book, the monster is lurking near a little cottage that houses a family he's grown rather fond of. He finally decides to enter the cottage and speak to the blind old father while the others are away."

Erik took a deep breath, and read:

_"These amiable people to whom I go have never seen me and know little of me. I am full of fears, for if I fail there, I am an outcast in the world forever," _

"Do not despair. To be friendless is indeed to be unfortunate, but the hearts of men, when unprejudiced by any obvious self-interest, are full of brotherly love and charity. Rely, therefore, on your hopes; and if these friends are good and amiable, do not despair."

"They are kind. They are the most excellent creatures in the world; but, unfortunately, they are prejudiced against me. I have good dispositions; my life has been hitherto harmless and in some degree beneficial; but a fatal prejudice clouds their eyes, and where they ought to see a feeling and kind friend, they behold only a detestable monster."

Erik stopped when he felt Christine's face press gently against his neck, "No wonder you like this book," she spoke softly, then gently brushed her lips against his pulse, feeling him tremble at the intimate contact.

She was pleased to see how sensitive he was to her touch and pressed her luck, slipping her fingers just beneath the hem of his tank top, skimming them gently against the scar on his abdomen – a scar, she recalled, that a fellow Ravelle student had given him.

Erik suddenly grasped her hand through the material, immediately stopping her attentions.

She lifted her head and looked at him, startled by his actions. "Christine…" Her heart leapt as she saw his golden depths darken, an untamed hunger in his eyes. "Please don't." He quickly looked away, and Christine's heart sunk.

While she liked that Erik cared for her emotionally, she was starting to wonder if Erik desired her _physically_. It had been almost a month now, and he still had not taken the initiative to kiss or touch her of his own accord - save for that first kiss.

Had she done something wrong? Was she just not his _type_? She was probably the only woman to ever give him some positive attention. What if that was all it was? What if he didn't actually _want _her?

After thirty-one years, what if he had built up some fabulous fairy tale expectations of a beautiful princess? What if she one day offered herself completely to him, only for him to find an inexperienced little girl a disappointment?

If this distance continued, Christine would start developing a complex…

Erik looked back to the book as coldness immediately came over his masked features. "I have to accompany Madeline tomorrow." He began suddenly. "And you mentioned that you would like to meet her."

"Do you want me to come with?" Christine asked as she brought her hand back to her side, trying to hide both her frustrations at his lack of physical interest, and her excitement that he was letting her into his personal life.

"If you wish," he answered. "It is up to you."

"I'll come." She agreed, then gestured back to the book, resting her head upon his shoulder once more.

Well… at least he let her do _that _much.

"Continue?" she asked.

He nodded and read on:

_"At that instant the cottage door was opened, and Felix, Safie, and Agatha entered. Who can describe their horror and consternation on beholding me? Agatha fainted, and Safie, unable to attend to her friend, rushed out of the cottage. _

Felix darted forward, and with supernatural force tore me from his father, to whose knees I clung, in a transport of fury, he dashed me to the ground and struck me violently with a stick. I could have torn him limb from limb, as the lion rends the antelope. But my heart sank within me as with bitter sickness, and I refrained.

I saw him on the point of repeating his blow, when, overcome by pain and anguish, I quitted the cottage, and in the general tumult escaped unperceived to my hovel."

* * *

**Giry residence – that night**

Giggling, Meg and RJ snuck into the study together, unable to keep their hands off each other. Their earlier argument had now led to the _making up_ part.

"My mom, RJ! She'll catch us." Meg whispered between heated kisses, his fingers tugging at her shirt. "Can't you wait until we get back to school? Where I can sneak into your dorm room again?" she smiled. "It'll only be four more weeks!"

"You expect me to wait that long?" RJ exclaimed, "Besides, your mom is outside with my dad. They won't be back in for a while."

"Then Erik and Christine might see us," Meg protested as he made another grab for her.

"I haven't seen them all night. I'm sure they're doing the same thing!" He replied, pouting as she shoved his hands away.

"No, they're not. Trust me on this." Meg replied. "He's probably reading to her or something."

"Are you telling me it's been almost a _month_, and they haven't-"

"Yes." Meg interrupted. "That's what I'm telling you. You act like that's a shock or something." Meg then put her hands on her hips as she frowned at the man before her. "Unlike _some_ people I know, Erik wouldn't pressure Chrissy into anything."

"Oh, here we go again." RJ muttered as he rolled his eyes. "I didn't pressure you!"

Meg scoffed at that, "Not much you didn't."

"Come ON, Meg! When did I _ever_ pressure you?"

"Two weeks into the relationship, you started with the wandering hands!" Meg pointed out.

He smirked. "You liked those wandering hands, if I recall."

She opened her mouth to protest, but was prevented from giving an answer when the two heard a rather loud commotion outside.

"What on Earth!" RJ sputtered. They ran up to the window in the study and looked out, eyes growing wide at what they witnessed.

RJ and Meg saw two shapes - one female, one male – fighting with two more shapes. Both male. The female had… was that a cane? And she was using it to fight off the person before her.

Dealing with the person behind her was a middle-aged man with slicked back hair and neatly trimmed moustache. "Dad!" RJ gasped, just as Meg shouted out "Mom!"

The two quickly ran out of the study, racing to the front door – only to open it and find Firmin and Giry standing calmly beneath a tree. They looked disheveled, and a little dusty.

They raised their heads as their children ran out of the house. "Mom? Are you ok?" Meg cried out, running to the older woman.

"Of course, dear. Why would you think otherwise?"

"RJ and I saw you… out the window…" she furrowed her brow and looked around, wondering where the two they were fighting had disappeared to.

"Sorry, Megan… what did you see out the window?"

The strawberry blond exchanged glances with RJ, both of them baffled. "You… you look a mess, Momma…" Meg said.

"Oh, Meg. Surely you must know what it is like to be alone with a gentleman on a lovely summer night." Meg seemed unconvinced. "Really, Megan!" Giry replied, exasperated, "Do not look at me so oddly. I may be older, but it does not mean things are all _that _different."

Meg shuddered involuntarily at the sudden mental picture she had of her mother and Firmin. For a moment, she worried she would need to physically scrub the image from her brain.

"Ok, Momma." Meg began quietly. "We're sorry to disturb you then…" she took RJ's hand, and the two headed back into the house silently.

For the first time ever, Meg was quite sure that her mother was lying to her.

The question was – for how long and about how much.

* * *

**Pareau Women's Prison– the next day**

Madeline stared at the man through the glass before her. Why could he not just leave her alone?

"I hear you're being released on parole today, my dear," The Leader began, a small smile on his lips. "I would like for you to share your whereabouts with me. I promise I will make it worth your while."

"Stay away from me, Shay!" she hissed.

He paid no attention, "And you even managed to get our son to show up and accompany you. How _ever _did you manage that?" Madeline remained silent. "I only asked because I imagine he'd be the last person who would agree." He shrugged.

"Perhaps that girl is making him soft."

"Girl?" Madeline finally spoke.

"You didn't know?" Shay asked. "It seems our son has charmed some ballet dancer. I suppose he has more of myself in him then I thought."

Madeline had recalled some time ago when a woman named Antoinette Giry had visited her. The woman had mentioned something about Erik befriending a ballet dancer. Was this the same girl?

The Leader smirked coldly. "She's a pretty little thing. I would enjoy her greatly."

"Leave them alone, Shay." Madeline pleaded. "It may be his only chance for happiness. Please?"

"Only chance for happiness?" Shay repeated, "And whose fault is that then?" The Leader feigned deep thought. "Oh yes - yours. You completely emasculated the boy when he was a child. Made him afraid of women." He leaned forward. "Why, he hasn't even _bedded_ that sweet thing yet!"

"There's more to a relationship than a bed." Madeline replied quietly.

Shay burst out laughing. "Now that… THAT is priceless coming from _you_, Madeline. What was your _career _again? Ah… a whore! An over-priced whore!" He stood up. "Never mind. You need not tell me where you'll be staying. I'm sure I'll find you soon enough."

With that said, he left the building.

* * *

**Giry Residence – Meg's Room**

"I know what we saw last night." Meg began as she sat with RJ in her room. "And it wasn't my mom and your dad getting cozy together!"

RJ nodded. "I asked dad about it… but he gave me the same excuse your mom did." He shook his head. "I get the feeling that there's something going on we don't know about. Even Christine and Erik seem to be in on some big secret."

Meg shrugged."Well, I expect secrets as far as Erik is concerned." She looked up at RJ, "I never told you this – but remember the rumours of a ghost singing and playing music in the Arts Building at school?" RJ nodded. "Guess who it was."

His eyes went wide. "Erik?" he gasped. "But… how? Why didn't anyone ever notice!"

"I don't know," Meg lamented. "But see, that's the thing – the way my mom and him interact, it's like they have this longstanding mutual respect for each other. I think Momma knew him long before me and Chrissy ever got to Ravelle." She ran a hand through her hair. "He's thirty-one years old, you know."

RJ seemed startled by that. "Really?" he then smirked. "So – Chrissy likes older guys then? Who would have thought it!"

"RJ! I'm being serious here! The point is, Mom never told me she knew him. Even when I first mentioned him to her." She glanced away, voice growing quiet. "Makes me wonder what _else_ she never told me about."

* * *

**Pareau Women's Prison**

Erik stood with Christine staring up at the large dark building that loomed over them.

"Madeline is… _here_?" Christine asked. Erik nodded. She shivered slightly at the un-welcoming building. "Erik?"

"Yes?"

She bit her lip nervously. "Where's your father?"

Erik shrugged. "I came about while my mother was _on the job_, so to speak."

Christine put a startled hand to her mouth. To think her Erik was the product of a whore and her john. Life was against him the day he was conceived.

She slid an arm around his waist and leaned gently into him. He tensed at the contact for a moment, then relaxed.

The two slowly headed towards the entrance… and Erik froze, his gaze venturing to the right. He narrowed his eyes, his mouth set in a scowl. Christine followed his gaze, and saw _him_.

The Leader was walking to a waiting car.

He stopped, glanced towards them, and smirked before continuing on his way.

"What is _he _doing here?" Christine gasped.

Erik looked down at her. "I believe Madeline may know the answer to that!"

"She _knows _him?" Christine asked.

"He once taunted me about her." Erik shook his head. "But she denied ever knowing him when I confronted her. Lying wench!" He hissed.

Christine's arm grew tighter around his waist. "Hush, Erik." She began softly, "You shouldn't speak about your mother that way."

"You don't know what life was like with her." He explained. "I was only a child… but I remember it all very clearly."

She moved in front of him, both arms going around his waist now. "You can tell me about it later. But now, you need to deal with her face to face. Don't do it angry."

Erik took a deep breath, his arms remaining at his side. "Are you my conscience now, angel?" he asked gently.

She offered him a small smile. "I _will _be if I have to be."

"Then you will have your work cut out for you."

* * *

Madeline was being led to the gate by the guards when she stopped in her tracks. 

Standing on the other side was her son, and a young girl with her arms around his waist. The girl was lovely. _Beautiful_, even. She was of petite build and height, her son standing over a foot taller than her.

Madeline watched the couple. He was looking at the girl with a tenderness that made Madeline regret her foolish career choice. Noman had ever acted in such a manner with _her_.

Had her son found someone to looked past his poor face?

_No thanks to me… _she reminded herself cruelly. _I used to call him a monster, a demon. And yet, here he stands with this girl. A complete contrast to those names. _Madeline closed her eyes, deeply shamed.

The TRUE monster, it seemed, was not the hideous boy, but the beautiful man who had fathered him.

Erik stepped away from his girl as Madeline approached them slowly, his demeanor growing cold and hard once again. The guards slid the gate opened, and brought her through, locking it tight behind them.

"Erik." She smiled.

"Madeline." He nodded in acknowledgement, mouth set in a straight line, his eyes betraying no emotion.

Madeline's eyes traveled to brunette. "Hello."

The girl held out an eager hand. "Hi. I'm Christine Daaé. It's nice to meet you." She smiled sweetly.

"_Nice_, is it?" Madeline asked with a raised eyebrow as she shook the girl's hand. "Obviously Erik hasn't told you much about me."

Christine glanced at the masked man beside her, then looked back at Madeline. "Yeah, he has. It's just… you're his mother. And I'm just happy to meet anyone related to him." She spoke sincerely as she released Madeline's hand.

Madeline studied the girl. Sweet, naïve thing she was. Madeline was quite sure she wouldn't be very happy to meet Erik's _father_, especially considering he already had less than honourable intentions towards her.

"Madeline," Erik spoke again. "Why was that man here."

Madeline blinked a moment. Had he just read her mind? No. "What man?" she asked innocently.

"The man who looks just like _me_," he said, eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me he wasn't here to see YOU. That would be far too much of a coincidence."

She went blank, mouth opening and closing silently. "I have no idea what you're talking about." She said quickly, then looked away from the imposing man before her. "I had no visitors today."

Erik swore under his breath, and Madeline saw Christine squeeze his hand ever so gently, a silent reminder to watch himself.

If this girl could influence him in a positive way, Madeline would be forever grateful to her.

* * *

**Laramie Drive – that night**

"Well, what is this great plan you claim to have?" Laura asked as she entered the Leader's study.

"I'm going to get his attention," Shay replied, leaning forward on his desk and steepling his fingers against his chin.

"I think you've gotten it already," Laura answered. "Unless you expect to kill him. I'm sure _that _will certainly get his attention."

Shay laughed coldly. "Ahh, there are ways to get a man's attention without resorting to physical violence. I told you, my dear, that was just a test of his strength." He seemed proud for a moment. "He's quite skilled, you know. But when he lets his emotions get in the way, it hinders him. It give his opponent the advantage."

"So what are you going to do then?" She asked.

He smiled coldly. "I'm going to see if he's still Mommy's little boy…"

* * *

**Giry Residence – Backyard**

Christine smiled proudly at her handiwork, the colourful lanterns bathing the Giry's backyard in a beautiful, almost ethereal glow.

"You need not have done that tonight," Erik began as he sat on the now-finished deck. "I still have to stain the wood, and that will take another day or two, plus time to dry.

Christine shrugged as she went to sit down beside him. "Not like I had anything better to do. And I'm excited about having a picnic under the stars."

She looked up at him. "My dad and I used to go stargazing a lot when I was a kid. He told all these wonderful stories about each constellation. Even the moon had it's own story. Something about a Greek goddess."

"Artemis," Erik answered. "Her brother was Apollo, god of the Sun."

She smiled. "I had a feeling you would know."

His voice grew softer as he took on the air of a storyteller. "Artemis's purity was such that no man was permitted to watch her bathe, which she often did during the full moon. Many woes would fall upon those who dared break such sacredness."

"One such man was Actaeon, son of King Cadmus," Erik continued. "During a stag hunt in the mountains with other men, he came upon Artemis bathing. In her anger at being exposed, she turned him into the very stag being hunted." He glanced at Christine and shrugged. "As you can imagine, things turned out rather badly for the boy."

Christine laughed at the bluntness with which he ended the tale and hugged his arm affectionately. "You know, we should invite your mother over before we leave for Ravelle next month." She said. "I mean, that is… if she's allowed to leave the halfway house."

"I would rather not see her if I can help it." Erik replied, his earlier light tone now harsh.

Christine looked up at him, "You should be happy your still have your mother, Erik. I grew up without one." Her voice grew quiet. "And when my dad passed away… I was so lost. I miss them both so much." She closed her eyes. "What I wouldn't give to talk to them again."

Erik gently grasped her chin and tilted her head up, chasing away the single tear that had slid down her cheek. "Christine… my childhood was nothing like yours. You say you wish to talk to your parents again, but angel… all that my mother ever talked to _me_ about was how I ruined her life. That I was some sort of monster. A demon. That she should have killed me the day I was born."

He shook his head and let go of her chin, taking her hand instead. "We didn't sing songs together. She didn't tell me stories. We didn't go stargazing. So you'll forgive me if I don't have fond memories of my time with her."

Christine let go of his hand to tug his arm around her shoulders, her own arm slipping around his waist as she nestled against his side. "I guess I just can't understand how anyone could treat you like that, especially your own mother. She seemed so happy to see you earlier today."

"She was happy to get out of jail, Christine. I doubt I had much to do with it."

"Why not? You're an amazing man, Erik. Sweet. Gentle. Passionate. Talented…"

"Temperamental. Possessive. Violent…" Erik added, then paused. "Dangerous."

Christine could not dispute his assessment of himself. He was all these things.

She only wished that he would recognize he was far more than what he claimed to be.

* * *

**Giry Residence – Madame Giry's room**

"My Mom will kill me if she finds us in here!" Meg whispered quietly to RJ as the two went through Giry's drawers and closet.

"Don't tell me you never snuck into your mother's room before!" RJ seemed surprised.

"I did when I was a kid," Meg explained. "Mom caught me and made me do a full barre series with a heavy soup can in my hands. I was sore for days!" She shuddered at the memory. "Not something I want to repeat."

She knelt down to look under the bed, and something beneath the mattress caught her eye. "What's this?" She asked as she tugged a manila envelope out. She furrowed her brow and pulled out what was inside.

It was an email printout. Meg's eyes went wide as she read it aloud.

_**

Send to: AntoinetteGiry hg. com, Executioner hg. com  
CC to: all hg. com 

**_

Topic: Important memo to all Hunters

Keep an eye out for this man

Meg noted the picture beside the warning. It was a man with ebony hair, pale skin, and golden eyes that Meg thought looked eerily like Erik's. The difference was, this man's face was handsome. Beautiful, even.

She continued to read:

_**

Real name: Unknown  
Aliases: The Leader, Mr. Shay  
Age: Unknown, but believed to be older then he appears  
Known accomplices: Laura Ashton 

**_

This was accompanied by a picture of a beautiful, but pale blond woman.

_**

Relatives: Unknown 

**_

Subject was last seen in confrontation with Hunter Erik at the Giry Residence, 564 Palmer Drive.

Subject is believed to control various Quarry. DO NOT APPROACH without backup.

Considered highly dangerous.

Immediately inform Guild Detective Nadir Khan of subject's whereabouts if seen.

Signed,

Gus Leroux  
Head of the Hunter's Guild

Meg held the paper in a shaking hand as she looked up at RJ. "What is this?" she asked, her voice wavering.

"I don't know, Meggles…" RJ began quietly. "What have Erik and your mom gotten themselves into?"

"Meg?" A voice spoke from the opened doorway. Meg turned to see Christine standing there. She looked concerned. "What's wrong, hun?"

Meg got to her feet and held the paper out to her friend. "Did you know?" she demanded.

Christine was taken aback, "Know what!" she asked as she nervously took the paper. She glanced at it, and her face betrayed her.

"You did!" Meg cried. "You KNEW! And you didn't even TELL me!" She gestured frantically, "What IS this, Chrissy? That wasn't just any intruder that messed Erik up, was it?"

"I… I don't know anything about him. Just that he's bad news…" Christine protested.

Meg shook her head. "But you knew about this… this _Hunter_ thing!"

"I found out by accident! I … I wasn't supposed to know about it either. But I got too curious! You _know _me!"

"No. No I DON'T know you! The Christine I know would have TOLD me my mom was involved in something like this!" Meg accused, tears falling down her cheeks.

"Meggy, honey… you don't understand. There's nothing BAD about it!"

"Did my dad know?" Meg asked. "Did he! Did he know about this?"

Another voice, calm and stern, interrupted. "He was part of it, Megan. Your father was a good man. He died in the line of duty."

Meg looked to see her mother and Firmin standing a few feet away from Christine. "Momma…!" Meg squeaked.

"Do not take your anger out on Christine." Giry said as she came into the room. "It was not her secret to tell."

RJ looked up at Firmin. "Dad? Are you involved too?"

Firmin took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, RJ. I couldn't tell you. We are sworn to secrecy."

"And mom?" RJ asked.

Firmin shook his head. "It was one of the reasons she divorced me. I couldn't tell her either. It strained our relationship."

"If it's such a big secret, why did Erik tell Chrissy!" Meg accused.

"He didn't." Christine finally spoke again. "Not… not intentionally. He never meant for me to find out."

Meg just shook her head, then ran out of the room, and out of the house.

"Meg! Meggy!" Christine shouted, and immediately chased after her best friend.

* * *

**Erik's Room – late that night**

Christine knocked quietly on Erik's door. It was late, and everyone was asleep. Except for her, having spent the last few hours trying to calm down her distraught friend.

"Erik?" Christine asked as she stepped into the room quietly. "You awake?"

"Yes. This time." He answered. "Keep the light off." Christine's hand stopped reaching for the switch. "Close the door, please." She nodded, and did so. And waited.

"Um… aren't you going to put on a lamp?" she asked.

"I am not wearing my mask," he answered.

"But…" Christine wanted to protest. Why was he still so worried about her seeing his face? She decided to let it pass - _this _time. "I talked to Meg-" Christine stopped, gasping when she saw a pair of glowing orbs in the darkness. She silently admonished herself. "Which kitty is in here?" she asked, for surely those were cats eyes she was seeing.

"None. They are sleeping on the couch in the living room." He paused. "Why are you looking at me so oddly, Christine?"

"Looking at you?" She then realized. "Those are YOUR eyes!" She reached her hands out and went towards the orbs, her fingers soon finding warm skin and a firm chest in their immediate vicinity. She grasped strong shoulders to pull herself closer, wanting to get a better look. "Erik, that's so cool! Your eyes glow."

Christine pressed her luck and blindly slid her hands up to brush his bared face. The feel of his exposed features was something she could never mistake. It was rather… _distinct_.

Her heart pounded with excitement, realizing she was alone in the dark with him. She pressed herself closer, hoping he would put his arms around her.

Alas, she was disappointed.

Christine tried not to show it as she gently tilted his face down, longing to end the distance between them…

"How is Little Giry?" Erik asked suddenly, interrupting the moment.

"What?" Christine was taken aback by his question.

"You said you talked to her. I heard what happened earlier tonight." He said, stepping away from Christine and causing her hands to drop back to her sides.

"She… she's sleeping now," Christine fought back the urge to scream at the way he was avoiding contact. "I talked to her earlier. Explained things. I told her about everything." She paused. "_Almost_ everything. She doesn't need to know about the _Executioner_… or our run-ins with Laura."

"Good." He answered, then she watched the glowing eyes lower, realizing Erik had gone back to sit on his bed. "You should head off to sleep."

Christine slowly walked towards the orbs, until she was sure she was in front of him. "Can I at least have a hug first?" she asked.

It took a few moments, but she finally felt arms slip around her waist, tugging her closer to the sitting form before her.

She smiled as she felt his cheek press against her abdomen, hands moving up her back, fingers gliding gently over her spine.

She closed her eyes, leaning into the contact …

… and suddenly the grip loosened.

Within seconds, all contact was gone.

Christine felt cold.

For a moment, he seemed as eager to hold her as she was to _be_ held. What had happened?

_Why do you keep pushing me away, Erik? Do you really hate physical contact that much?_ She realized asking him these questions would be futile.

"Good night," she whispered softly instead.

"Good night, angel," he answered.

Christine sighed softly, then headed back to her room.

What had happened between that first kiss, and this night? He had left her gasping for breath a month ago, but now...

_But now that he has me, he doesn't **want **me... _

Christine entered her room and curled up beneath her blankets, feeling rather undesirable.

She frowned as she recalled her time with Raoul – at least HE had enjoyed touching her.

* * *

**Mercy Drive, Halfway House**

Madeline hummed quietly to herself as she finished unpacking her meager belongings. It was nice not to be behind bars for once.

As she continued going about her business, she felt a presence at her back.

She froze, dropping the shirt in her hands back into the duffel bag on her new bed.

She slowly turned around, her eyes growing wide. "No… no … please…! Why can't you just leave me alone!"

"I find you far too interesting to leave you alone." The silky voice of her former lover mocked her. "I told you I'd find you, Madeline. You should know by now that I'm good to my word."

Madeline wanted to speak, but her voice left her.

And then she felt it.

The darkness.

It seeped into her mind slowly, so very slowly. It was agonizing. _What are you? _He could hear her question even though she could not voice it. _You… you're not human!_

She screamed out silently, her mouth opened but her throat closed. _How? How is this possible?_

She looked up at him, not even sure how she had fallen to the ground. She shook her head desperately as she wrapped a hand around her throat.

What was happening? What was he doing to her?

Madeline was denied answers as the cold icy darkness utterly consumed her.

**END OF EPISODE 21**


	22. Episode 22: Nightmares

A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 22: Nightmares

By: Elektra

Christine Daaé was surrounded by darkness.

Cold. Frightened.

She hugged herself, unsure of why she was here, or how she had arrived. "Hello?" she called out to the emptiness. No answer. She called out again, and received the same silence. "Where am I?" she asked.

"Right where I want you to be," came the reply. Christine spun around to see the source of the voice. Someone stood in the distance, an unseen light showing a tall lithe silhouette, his hair blowing in a breeze she could not feel.

"Erik?" she asked. The person stepped forward and she could finally see his face.

Yes. He had a face.

A _beautiful _face.

That certainly wasn't her Erik.

A shiver slid down her spine and caused goose bumps to rise on her arms. The man continued towards her, and Christine took a step back. "Who are you?" she asked.

"You know who I am…" he replied.

The closer he came, the more Christine backed away. "No," she gasped, "You stay away from me!" Christine suddenly felt herself surrounded by three walls. She could neither go back, left, nor right. Only forward… and towards the man – no, the _creature _- stalking her.

In a blur of ebony hair and pale skin, she found him standing mere inches from her. The frightening creature pressed his face into her neck, inhaling her scent.

"Mmmm… you smell innocent. I can have fun with you." He smirked. "After all, if you want something done right…." the creature chuckled, "Do it yourself!" He took one step back and contemplated her. "You know, I made the mistake of sending _boys _to try and get you away from him. It obviously failed. I know better now. A girl like you needs a MAN."

"L-leave me alone!" Christine cried out as her enemy moved towards her once again.

"Don't you like me?" He asked with a cold smirk. "I can promise you I'll make my company worth your while." His eyes seemed to glow amber. "I'm truly going to enjoy myself …" he brought his mouth to her ear, his voice low, "and I promise, _angel_, so will YOU,"

* * *

Christine cried out as she shot up in bed, her breathing ragged, her arms clenched tightly over her chest in fear. She looked back and forth frantically. She was in Meg's room. "Meggy?" she whispered.

Her friend let out a grunt beneath her covers, making it clear she was not going to wake any time soon.

Christine quickly jumped out of bed and ran out of the room, going to the only place she would feel safe for the night.

* * *

Erik's room

Erik was startled awake as the door to his room flew open and quickly shut. Before he could ask who dared enter without his permission, a petite feminine form slipped beneath his blankets and wrapped slender arms around him desperately.

"Christine?" He realized. "What are you-" He stopped when he felt her shaking, and immediately worried for her wellbeing. "What is it? What's wrong?"

She said nothing, only held him tighter. He heard her shallow uneven breathing, and realized she was hyperventilating. Why?

He had only witnessed this once before – when the girl had the misfortune to find the body of an opera singer in a dark hallway.

His arms went around her instinctively. "Calm now…" he began soothingly. "Breathe. Slowly. Deep breaths." He brushed her hair away from her face and felt the wetness of tears on her cheeks.

He could not find out what was wrong with the girl in her current state and did the only thing he could think of – he sang to her. "_Wherein the deep night sky… The stars lie in its embrace…The courtyard still in its sleep…And peace comes over your face…_"

It was a soft gentle lullaby meant to calm her. His voice was smooth and sweet, and seemed to be having the desired effect as he felt Christine's shaking slowly begin to subside. "'_Come to me,' it sings… Hear the pulse of the land… The ocean's rhythms pull… To hold your heart in its hand…._"

Finally, Christine calmed enough to find out what had bothered her so. "…Angel?" He began gently. "What happened?"

"I had a nightmare," she whispered as she pressed her face against his chest. "Bad. Felt real. There was a man… an evil man." She let out a choked sob, unable to continue. He could feel her tears against his skin.

Erik had had nightmares for most of his life. He could not understand how a dream could disturb Christine to the point where she ended up curled against him like a frightened child… but then again, she was not used to having such dreams.

Erik gently ran his fingers through her hair. He felt her breathing slow and calm as she shifted her little body snugly against him, her leg entwining with his as her arm tightened around his waist.

The hand in her hair froze.

Christine's innocent movement had sent an unexpected rush of heat through his body. He could not ignore how wonderful her soft warmth felt… how thin her pajama top was… how he could feel her as he had never felt her before.

Erik forced himself to swallow a moan. _You sick monster – don't think of your angel that way! Not now! Not when she needs your comfort._ He cursed himself. _She may care for you, but she would be appalled at the current thoughts in your head. Shame on you! _

He was at a loss what to do. His heart and soul wanted to comfort her, but he could not deny the hunger racing through his blood. "Christine…" his voice was strained as he slowly moved her away from him. "You… you cannot stay here tonight. You need to-"

"He wanted… said he wanted to have _fun _with me…" Christine interrupted, grasping Erik's arms and stopping him from pushing her from his embrace. "In the dream, he… grabbed me. It was like I could _feel_ his hands on me. It was so cold!"

Erik squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, feeling completely and utterly ashamed. _If that was her nightmare, then I am no better... _he realized.

He suddenly felt a hand upon his uncovered face. "You're the only one allowed." Christine's voice was barely a whisper.

He opened his eyes. "Allowed?" he asked.

"To touch me." She said. "No one else."

Erik was quite sure he had stopped breathing. What, exactly, was Christine implying?

He had spent thirty-one years without so much as a kind touch, yet within the last year he had not only befriended a beautiful girl, but now found her curled in his arms for comfort, telling him he was _allowed_ to touch her.

That she could make such a declaration to him - to a man who had so much blood on his hands… whose very face had more-or-less driven a woman to her death - was beyond his comprehension.

Christine nestled against him once more, her head tucked beneath his chin. "Sing me to sleep?" she asked softly. "Please? That song… it was so pretty…"

"Christine… you can't stay here," he protested again, his restraint fading by the second.

"Why not?" she asked pitifully, raising her head to where she could meet the glowing orbs that were his eyes.

"Because it isn't-" He stopped when he saw her unshed tears and trembling lower lip. If only he wasn't so perceptive in the dark.

Erik took a deep breath and tucked her head beneath his chin once more, pushing the shameful thoughts from his mind as he soothingly rubbed her back to relax her. "_And when the wind draws strong… Across the cypress trees… The night-birds cease their songs… So gathers memories -_"

His voice faded out as he heard Christine's deep steady breathing and the feel of her resting in his arms.

Finally, she had fallen asleep.

Now only one question remained – how would he explain this to Antoinette in the morning?

* * *

Laramie Drive

"Oh Shay…" Laura sighed with annoyance as she stared at the man laying beside her in bed, "Your annoying new pet is making noise again."

He shrugged. "There is only so much I can do to silence it." He answered. "Just leave it alone. It'll wear itself out eventually."

"But it's banging against the walls of its room." Laura whined.

The Leader smirked. "Funny, that. You think it would be used to being locked up by now."

She frowned. "It's annoying, Shay! Make it stop!"

With an impatient sigh, the Leader slipped out of bed and left the room.

Laura waited, then heard the painful wrenching scream of the animal getting it's mind ripped and torn into shreds. She smiled at the silence that followed.

The Leader finally returned. "Well now, that's taken care of." He made himself comfortable beside her once again. "Now you must take care of ME."

"Gladly." She answered, "But tell me, Shay…" She met his golden eyes, "when will you let the animal's son know that she's here?"

* * *

Elsewhere

Erik knew it was a dream. But it was one he had never had before. He heard someone sobbing and his eyes fell upon a young boy curled up on the ground, his face in his hands.

"Why are you crying? " He demanded, having no patience for a weeping child.

"My mother hates me!" the boy sobbed.

"My mother hates me too," Erik told the boy. "You do not see me crying about it."

"But you used to," the boy said.

"Perhaps when I was a child-" Erik stopped as the boy raised his head and looked up at him. The horrid skeletal face was unmistakable.

"She didn't love you," the boy began as he stood up. "Even though you loved her. STILL love her… she despised you!" The boy cocked his head to the left. "But then, NO woman could love something like you."

"I have long ago learned to accept such things," Erik answered. "What you are telling me is nothing new."

"But you hope for it, don't you? You hope she will tell you she loves you."

"I care not what my mother thinks of me. Not anymore," Erik replied.

"I am not speaking of your mother. I am speaking of your _angel_!"

Erik grew angry. "Do not speak of her!"

"You cannot hide from me, Erik. I'm you. I'm your reflection." The boy's ugly face was all Erik could see now, pieces melting off bit by bit. "It's not only on the outside. It's _inside _as well! Your ugliness extends far beyond your looks! You can NEVER escape from it!"

The younger Erik laughed. "Do you think she can see past the blood?" A piece of skin fell from the left cheek to reveal moist bone. "Do you think she will give you her heart?" A piece of the right cheek fell, revealing tendons.

"Do you think she will allow you to lose yourself in her body? To taint her with your touch?" the hideous boy asked, his lips peeling back from his teeth. "Do you hope to marry her? To have her in your arms every night?" The right eye fell out of its socket.

"You are a murderer. She cannot forget that!" A chunk of scalp fell away, gray matter seeping out ever so slowly. "And as much as you wish it, _you _will never forget it either! The darkness won't just go away! It will always be inside you! Festering. Decaying your heart and soul until there is nothing left."

Erik began backing away from the inhuman thing before him, shaking his head slowly.

"Why are you running?" The boy – if it could be called that now – asked. "This is you! This is what you REALLY look like!"

A sudden white light blinded both Erik and his rotting younger self. The light took on the form of a woman – petite, lovely, innocent.

Her skin shimmered with a silvery glow, her bright blue eyes seemed luminescent, her long curls hung loosely about her shoulders. Her slender arms stretched out towards the two, a sweet sound escaping her lips as she sang wordlessly to them.

The rotting boy looked upon her with awe. "Now _that _is unexpected," He said, but now his voice was that of a man.

It was a familiar voice, one Erik was sure he had heard before. But before he could contemplate it for too long, the boy spoke again in the man's voice.

"I had not thought you able to conjure her up in such a way."

"This is how I see her." Erik explained to the corpse. "Unrealistic thought it may be, it is a visual embodiment of my emotions for her."

The boy smirked coldly. "How unfortunate for you that she will never allow you to derive physical pleasure from such emotions."

The rotting form faded away, and Erik slowly found his mind begin to wake. **

* * *

Erik's Room – the next morning**

Erik gradually opened his eyes to find Christine still curled against him. His odd dream was fresh in his mind. He wondered if the boy in the dream realized she was sleeping soundly at his side. 

Do you think she will allow you to lose yourself in her body? To taint her with your touch?

Erik pushed the taunting voice from his head. Christine had given him so much already. He would be greedy to want more.

With a soft sigh, he studied the sleeping face currently resting upon his shoulder. The sunlight seeping through the sides of his window shade illuminated her features. She looked very much like a child at this moment. She was even drooling, which while not the most pleasant of sensations against his skin, made him smile ever so slightly.

He pressed a light kiss against her forehead and lay his head back upon his pillow, fighting the urge to gather her in his arms and hold her body against him.

Perhaps a few more hours of sleep would make such urges go away.

He closed his eyes, and soon felt a little hand stroking his unmasked face. He almost shot up in bed, wanting to hide his face from Christine's sight, knowing she could see it in the dim light…

… but when he opened his eyes, he saw the girl gazing upon him with tenderness.

"Christine…" he whispered, awed with the look in her eyes. That she could stare at his deathly visage without disgust still surprised him. He wondered if he would ever grow used to it.

"Well, at least this is progress." She spoke softly.

"Pardon?" he asked, brow furrowed.

"You're not clutching desperately at your arms, huddled against the wall, hiding your face with your hair." She smirked.

"Ah yes… you made it very clear you didn't appreciate that last time." He replied, then glanced away. "A learned response, which I will admit I had to fight the impulse not to repeat a few seconds ago."

Christine wasn't sure whether to be happy that he fought the urge to hide from her, or upset that he still _had _it.

"Erik…" Christine began softly. "You're coming back to the college, aren't you?" she asked. For some reason, the sudden thought that he may not be there came to her mind. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen.

"Ah yes, you and the Girys are returning in two weeks, correct?"

Christine nodded.

"What is Ravelle College without its ghost then?" He asked. "I have that lovely cold basement to return to as well. I cannot pass up such wonderful accommodations."

Christine laughed, then met his eyes and sobered, growing serious for a moment. "Would you like someone to keep you warm at night?" she asked softly.

Erik forgot to breathe. "Christine?" he began. "What do you mean by that?"

Before she could answer, a loud knocking on Erik's door startled both of them. A frantic voice spoke on the other side. "Erik? Are you here? I can't find Chrissy!"

"Little Giry…" Erik sighed, then reached over to grab his mask from the bedpost where it hung.

Christine quickly slid out of the bed and went to the door, opening it a crack and wincing at the bright light in the hallway. It was such a stark contrast to the darkness in Erik's room. "Meg? I'm here. I'm fine." She said softly.

Her friend's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You spent the night with him?"

"I had a really bad nightmare," Christine answered innocently.

Meg studied the girl for a moment. "Why are you still dressed then?" she asked.

Christine furrowed her brow "What? Why wouldn't I-" she stopped, eyes going wide. "Oh! Meggy! No… no we SLEPT, that's it! I swear!"

"Damn." Meg seemed disappointed. "I was hoping for details."

* * *

Elsewhere

_Why is Momma so mad at me? I only asked a question. I wanted to know why I have to wear this scratchy piece of linen on my face. It's hot in the summer. And uncomfortable. I'm growing bigger, but the cloth on my face seems to be getting smaller. It hurts my skin. _

It hurts when you're mad at me, Momma. Don't you know I love you? I do, Momma. Even though you hate me.

Momma forces me in front of something. A big something covered by a dust cloth. She lifts the cloth up and rips the material from my face.

"Look!" she demands of me. "LOOK at that!" She is shouting in my ear. Her voice is so loud. I turn to her, but she twists her fingers in my hair, forcing me to stare. My eyes go wide as I see the THING staring back at me.

What IS that thing?

Why is Momma shoving my face against the cold glass? Momma… stop… please stop! I don't want to look at it!

"See that?" she asks. "See the demon in the mirror!"

I'm scared! The demon is repulsive. Ugly.

"Make it go away!" I beg her. Tears spill down the reflection's horrid features, and I feel wetness on my own cheeks. "Please, Momma! Make it go away! Make that yucky thing stop staring at me!"

It's revolting! There's a hole where its nose should be, and it has big yellow eyes! I can also see light traces of blue beneath its pale-white skin. The only thing normal is Its mouth! The rest of Its face looks dead!

Why is a dead thing staring at me?

Momma grasps my hands and forces them to my face, and the monster in front of us is doing the same thing. Is it taunting me?

"Feel this?" Momma demands. "Feel the dead boy? This is YOU! This is why you have to hide, you little freak!"

No more! Please, Momma! No more!

I pull my hands from hers and smash my fists repeatedly into the glass. I'm bleeding now. I feel my hands stinging. It hurts! I want the monster to go away, but it's still staring at me! Even through the cracks in the glass, it still stares at me!

And it's crying.

It's so ugly… but it looks so sad.

I feel bad now. Does Its Momma hate It the way my Momma hates ME?

"You wanted to know!" Momma says, but I'm too busy staring at the sad monster. It seems so alone.

No one will ever love It because it's so ugly.

And then I realize what Momma did.

I touch my face slowly, the creature behind the broken glass imitating my every movement.

And I know.

It's me. This is my reflection.

And Momma hates it.

Momma hates ME...

… because I'm not pretty… not like she is…

… I'm a monster…

Madeline woke up with a start. She looked around the well-furnished room and hugged her knees to her chest.

Shay had come to visit her earlier. Complained she was making far too much noise. He then said she should be happy that this new prison cell was nicer then her old one.

Why had he kidnapped her from the halfway house? Was it to punish her?

Ever since she had gotten here, she had been having dreams of being a little boy. A boy who was despised by his own mother.

No. These were memories. Memories of herself. Of what SHE had done to that little boy. Her little Erik.

She always woke up crying, consumed by emptiness as she stared in the mirror that stood at the foot of her bed.

Her eyes saw another's reflection– a corpse's face that stared back at her. The tears on Its little cheeks, the pleading eyes that begged, just once, for her to love them.

"Monster…" she whispered to the empty room. "I'm a monster…"

* * *

Giry backyard – evening

Erik sat on the deck, long since decorated with patio furniture, studying the paper before him. He was scratching his head as he scribbled something down. It was a detailed recollection of both his and Christine's dreams - as she had told him a few hours ago.

"What is wrong, Erik?" Giry spoke as she came out, pulling up a chair beside him.

"Have you had any odd dreams lately, Antoinette?" He asked.

She frowned. "Not that I recall. Why?"

"It seems Christine and myself both had strange ones last night. She claimed hers felt so real. Mine…" he frowned. "Well, mine _always _seem real, but I am used to that. She was rather disturbed, however, and came running into my room."

Giry raised an eyebrow. "She stayed with you last night?"

Erik's head shot up as he looked at Giry. "Yes… well… she was frightened." He bowed his head over the paper before him once again. "Where she spent the night is not important." He said quickly.

"No need to feel ashamed, Erik. I know what it is like to find comfort in a man's arms."

"Antoinette! I did not _comfort_ her!" He stopped, then reworded his explanation. "Well, yes… I DID comfort her… but… perhaps not in the way you are implying!"

"I know, Erik." Giry answered. "Otherwise I surely would have heard Meg and Christine speaking about it in hushed whispers when I walked by their room."

"I just wanted to make that clear. I do not wish to sully her reputation."

"You certainly are an old-school gentleman," Giry replied, then glanced over at the paper on his lap. "Now tell me about these strange dreams you and your lady suffered last night."

Before Erik could, his cell phone went off. "Pardon me, Antoinette." He said, then answered the phone. "Hello? Erik speaking…"

"Erik?" Giry spoke when she noticed his body stiffening, his jaw clenching.

"When was she last seen?" He hissed into the phone. He waited for the response. "Why did no one contact me earlier?" He wasn't pleased with the answer. "No one noticed?" he shouted angrily. "How is it that no one notices when an ex-convict disappears from her room?"

His words startled Giry. Had Madeline gone missing?

"Visitor? _What _visitor?" Erik demanded. As he listened to the voice on the other line, Giry saw his body tense, his mouth turn down into a scowl. He suddenly swore into the phone, slamming it closed and sticking it on his belt once again.

"Erik? What happened?"

"She said she didn't know him!" he snapped angrily. "That _lying bitch_ said she didn't know him!"

"Who?" Giry asked. "Who did she claim not to know?"

"The Leader!" he answered. "I should have probed her. _Forced_ her to tell me." With an angry shout, he grabbed a patio chair and threw it across the backyard. "Of all the things to lie about!"

"What's going on?" Came a concerned Christine as she ran out onto the deck. "Erik?" He glanced at her once, then charged past her into the house.

Christine ran after him, unable to keep up as he darted into his room only to emerge moments later with his duster.

Before Christine could ask him again what was going on, he tangled his fingers in her hair and surprised her with a hard hungry kiss on her mouth. When he pulled away, he brushed his fingers gently over the surprised girl's lips and immediately headed out the front door.

"Erik?" Christine called out, but only heard a slam in response.

She rushed to the window and watched as Erik ran down the front drive and disappeared into the night.

* * *

DeChagny Residence – 4 hours later

Raoul DeChagny stared at the tall masked man before him. He had barged through the front doors, waking the entire household ranting and raving, demanding to see Philip.

"You really ARE insane!" Raoul shouted. "How the hell did you get past our security!" He went to a nearby phone and pressed a button.

"Are you calling the front gate?" Erik asked coldly. "I am afraid they are unavailable!"

"What?" Raoul's eyes went wide. "What did you do to them!"

"They're not dead, if that's your concern. Though they may not be feeling entirely healthy when they wake up!" He growled. "Now WHERE is Philip?"

"What do you want from him?" The young man asked suspiciously.

"It is about your brother's business partner!" Erik hissed. "I wish to know if he has had any contact with him as of late. NOW!"

Raoul frowned. "How _dare _you come in here and-"

"Christine may be in danger! Do you _really_ want to risk her just to spite me, boy?" Erik barked.

"Danger? What…?" Raoul shook his head, remember how uncomfortable Mr. Shay had made Christine when she had first seen him. "I _knew_ you were trouble! I KNEW Chrissy should have stayed away from you!" he accused. "Do you have some history with Shay? Did you steal something from him? Kill a family member? "

"My business with him is my own. He _took_ something of mine! Something that was important to me… at one time," Erik replied.

"Can't you buy a new one?" Raoul snapped.

"Can _you_ buy yourself a new mother, DeChagny?" Erik replied, seeing he wasn't going to get anywhere unless he told the boy at least part of the situation.

Raoul looked up at him, voice quiet. "Your mother?" he gasped, surprised that Erik's mother was even still alive. "Why would he want your MOTHER?"

"If I knew that, things would be far simpler for me!" Erik answered.

Raoul swore under his breath, then headed towards his brother's study, knocking loudly. "Phil? Are you in there?"

Philip DeChagny opened the door, bleary eyed and frowning at the interruption. "I'm very busy, Ray. What on Earth do you want?"

"Have you spoken to Mr. Shay recently?" Raoul asked.

Philip looked at his brother, then turned his head to face the shadowed masked man a few feet away. "What is _he _doing here?" He glanced back at Raoul. "You didn't try and steal Christine away from him, did you?" he asked.

"Phil, _please_. Erik needs to know about Shay. Christine may be in danger!" the younger DeChagny insisted.

Philip muttered something under his breath and headed back into the study for a moment. "I haven't seen nor spoken to the man in a few weeks. He said he was taking care of some personal business."

Philip went through his address book and quickly jotted something down, handing it to Erik moments later. "Here is his address and phone number. Just don't let him know who you received it from."

Erik suddenly wrapped a hand around Philip's throat and pinned him against the wall. "And I trust HE will not know I am on my way, correct?"

"PHILIP!" Raoul shouted out, trying to pry Erik from his brother.

Philip's eyes went wide, desperately attempting to claw at the hand that was currently cutting off his air. "Won't…. won't… tell… tell him…" he choked out. "I sw… swear…"

After a moment, Erik finally released the older DeChagny. "I am glad we have that cleared up then."

Erik turned to Raoul. "Go to the Girys. Stay with Christine. If he shows up, get the ladies as far away from him as possible! You have a car. That will make it easier to run."

Raoul simply stared at the man who had nearly choked the life from his brother.

"GO, damn it! Or would you rather HE get to her first?" Erik hissed. "I thought you cared a bit more about her than that!"

Raoul now grew angry. "Don't talk to me about caring for Chrissy! You and your mother are the ones who may have put her in harm's way!"

Erik could say nothing to dispute that.

"I truly despise you, DeChagny," he hissed. "But I trust you to have Christine's best interests at heart!" he growled. "Tell her I will try to come back as soon as possible. That I need to take care of things. She will know what I am referring to!"

"I wish _I _knew what you were referring to!"

Erik ignored the comment. "If something happens to her or the Girys, I will blame YOU and YOU alone! Consider that incentive and stop standing here like a fool!"

Erik then spun around and stormed out of the DeChagny home, making a quick call to a certain Guild detective as he headed to the house on Laramie Drive.

* * *

Laramie Drive – An Hour Later

The man known as the Leader sat up in his bed, a cold smirk slowly spreading on his lips.

"Shay?" Laura asked as she glanced over at him. "What is it."

His glowing amber eyes slid in her direction, the smirk never fading.

"My son has come to visit…" 

END OF EPISODE 22

* * *

__

Extra A/N: The song Erik is singing to Christine is "Courtyard Lullaby" by Loreena McKennitt. I though it was fitting given the circumstances.


	23. Episode 23: Into the Lion’s Den

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir **_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

**Episode 23: Into the Lion's Den**

By: Elektra

Christine and the Girys were startled out of their sleep by the incessant knocking at the front door.

When the three opened it, they were shocked to see who stood there.

"Raoul?" Christine began. "What are you doing here?"

"Your psychotic boyfriend barged into my house and insisted on finding my brother's business associate!" he began with a frown as he walked in.

Christine blinked at that. "I don't understand. I thought something about Madeline upset him and that's why he ran off."

"Madeline – is that his mother?" Raoul asked. "He mentioned her. Thought Mr. Shay may have done something to her."

Christine put a hand to her mouth. "Oh god… don't tell me Erik went after him."

"I don't know _what_ Erik did. He just said he wanted me to come here and stay with you ladies. Told me to pile you all in my car and take you somewhere if the man shows up here." He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Apparently the time of night doesn't matter much to him." He let out a weary sigh, "And I'm practically asleep on my feet."

"There is a couch in the study if you wish to sleep," Madame Giry offered, indicating a door down the hall.

"Thank you, Madame. And… can I ask you all to explain this to me in the morning please? I would really like to know what the hell is going on here!"

The three ladies exchanged glances. Madame Giry let out a soft sigh. "I have to make a few phone calls, then we'll see what I can tell you."

With a sleepy nod, Raoul shuffled into the study and shut the door behind him.

"You know," Madame Giry turned to the two girls before her once Raoul was gone, "There _was _a time when Erik knew how to keep secrets."

* * *

**Erik's Room - later**

Christine curled up beneath Erik's blankets, wanting to be alone tonight instead of in Meg's room.

_Why? Why did Erik go face that man alone? Especially after getting his ass kicked the first time._ Christine asked silently. She closed her eyes, remembering the kiss he had given her before storming out. It was the first time he had behaved so boldly towards her.

She now wondered if it had been a kiss goodbye.

Christine hugged herself, fighting the urge to scream. Shout. Curse. For such a genius, Erik could be rather stupid sometimes.

_Damn it, Erik! If you let him kill you, I'll never forgive you!_ Christine decided, then noted the absurdity of her thoughts.

She hugged Erik's pillow to her chest, breathing in the very male scent that still lingered upon it before giving in to her fears and crying herself to sleep.

* * *

**Laramie Drive**

Erik and Nadir kicked absently at the dust at their feet. Five guards they had managed to get rid of, and that was even before they got to the front door.

"Erik, I really think we should call for backup," Nadir replied.

Erik shook his head. "And would they come, Nadir? This is personal business. They will say 'hold off and we will organize a raid'. By then, Madeline could be dead, if she isn't already."

Nadir took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He could not deny what Erik feared. The Guild would not rush headlong into enemy territory just to save one person. MANY people, perhaps... but not ONE.

"Very well," Nadir relented as they finally came before the front doors. "Let's go in,"

The two men held their weapons ready – Nadir with crossbows, Erik with his stakes and rope - and barged inside.

Erik immediately went after the first creature that descended upon him, leaving Nadir to deal with the two coming in from the left.

Erik swung a wide roundhouse at his attacker, catching It across the jaw. He then shot out a hard kick to It's stomach, sending It back against another door, splintering the wood in such away that the creature ended up impaling itself.

Nadir attacked his first quarry from behind, one leg swinging out and flipping the creature to the ground. He quickly dropped a knee hard into its back and easily finished It off.

Erik glanced over to see how well his friend was doing when two more creatures appeared before him. A blur of pale skin snuck behind the masked hunter, grabbing his arms and catching him off guard. _Damn it, I was distracted!_

Erik broke the hold, and twined his leg around his opponents, sending It crashing to the floor.

The other creature found a tight rope around its neck before it could assist It's kindred. With a hard yank, Erik heard the snap of vertebrae and sent it to the ground, leaving it twitching fiercely.

Erik returned to the second creature that had attacked him, his head snapping back from a firm blow to the chin as It had jumped to its feet and caught him with a hard punch. The metallic taste of blood on his tongue was most unpleasant, but he did not let it distract him as he saw the next punch coming and lunged to the side.

Behind Erik, Nadir seemed to be having a bit of trouble. A kick to the stomach had sent the older man reeling, gasping for breath. The momentary diversion inadvertently allowed his quarry to land a couple of blows to his person.

When the creature reached back for the final blow, however, Nadir shot his arm out, impaling it through the chest and turning it to dust.

Quite sure that Nadir had things well in order, Erik treated his own opponent with an uppercut that smashed Its nose and sent spatters of blood across the wall.

While It was distracted, Erik caught his quarry around the neck and forced It down to the ground, his arm moving gracefully to turn the creature to powder.

Erik jumped to his feet as he sensed another quarry coming up behind him. He spun around only see It become dust by Nadir's crossbow.

The older man was still on his knees, looking the worse for wear, his face streaked with blood. Whether it was his own or his quarry's, Erik wasn't sure.

"Come now, Detective. Do not tell me you are getting too old for this kind of thing!" Erik taunted as he offered a hand to help the man up.

"Funny boy…" Nadir wheezed, desperately trying to catch his breath. He gladly accepted Erik's hand up, stumbling as he finally made it to his feet. "Do not quit your day job."

"But it seems my best work is done at _night_." Erik winked as the two began to walk through the large house, keeping an eye and ear open for anything that may pop out of the shadows. "Shame I don't get paid much for it."

"Ah yes. After all, you now have a pretty girl for whom you must buy many pretty things."

"Is that so?" Erik asked the man before him as he calmly kicked down a locked door and led the older man through. "I do not think Christine cares much for trinkets."

Nadir blinked at how easily Erik could cause property damage and speak about Christine all in the same moment. "Well surely when the two of you go out on a date-"

"Date?" Erik repeated.

Nadir looked up at the taller man, aghast. "You mean all this time, you have not yet asked her out on a date?" he asked.

Erik considered this for a moment. "I have taken her to the opera on occasion." He said.

"That is a start at least. But what about dinner? Or a movie? Some place where you are not hiding from everyone else in a private box."

"I am not one to go out in public, Nadir. You know that," Erik answered.

"But SHE is." He answered. "And really, Erik - you must get over your agoraphobia. Your lady deserves to be courted. If not by you, then I will court her on your behalf – to thank her for the wonderful change she has provided to your normally grumpy demeanor, of course," he joked.

"I believe I can do a fair job of courting her without YOUR help, Nadir."

"How now? Ask her to lurk off to the school's arts building at all hours of the night?"

Erik opened his mouth to respond, then stopped as the two passed by a window during their exploration of the house. "Ahh, now this explains why we are not being accosted at the moment." He indicated the rising sun.

Nadir nodded. "Yes. Perhaps. But not all of them would be of the undead. No doubt there are other types lurking about." He looked back at Erik. "But now you are changing the subject. We were talking about properly courting your lady."

"Hush, Nadir…" Erik hissed as he slowly stepped up to a door and cocked his head, listening.

"You really should heed my advice here, Erik."

"There is someone behind this door, Nadir!" Erik insisted. "It sounds like Madeline!"

Nadir opened his mouth to continue his lecture, then closed it again. "Do what you must, Erik."

Erik nodded, and kicked the door down easily.

The two Hunters were caught completely off-guard at what they saw before them.

* * *

**Giry Residence - the next morning**

Christine woke up slowly. The room was dark and she was alone. It took her a moment to remember whose room she was in.

Erik hadn't come home yet.

She shuffled out of the room and looked around the house, still not finding the man she was searching for.

With a quiet sob, she sat in the living room and picked up Odin, snuggling him for comfort. "Where is he?" she muttered into the cat's fur. "He has to be ok... has to be..."

"Chrissy?" Christine looked up to see Raoul walking in. "He didn't come back?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Not yet."

"Care to explain to me what's going on then?"

Christine opened her mouth to respond, only to have Giry enter the room. "I believe I am the only one qualified to answer. Come with me, Mr. De Chagny. I will try to explain."

As Giry led Raoul off, another knock came at the door. Meg headed over to open. "Oh, hello Mrs. Bell."

Christine looked to see a middle-aged woman dressed in clothing that would have probably looked better on a 15-year-old. They seemed to be the same _size_ a 15 year old would wear, at least.

"Hi, Megan. I was wondering if your contractor was here?" she asked, a smile on her painted lips. "I was speaking to him a little while back about some work I'd like him to do for me."

"Erik is unavailable right now, Ma'am." Christine spoke up. "He… had business to attend to."

"Oh." Mrs. Bell replied. "Do you know when he'll be back?"

"No." Christine spoke quietly. "I… I don't know…if he ever WILL be back!" She suddenly spun around and rushed into Erik's room.

Meg was left standing with the confused woman. "Uh… you'll have to excuse Chrissy. She misses her boyfriend," Meg offered a weak smile.

"Erik has a _girlfriend_ then?" Mrs. Bell seemed disappointed. "Ah well, I suppose I'll try to catch him another time…" With that, she made her way out of the house and back to her own, leaving Meg frowning in her wake.

* * *

**Madeline's Room – 10 minutes later**

Erik took in the scene before him. How had this happened?

Ah yes - no sooner had he broken down the door then had three creatures slid out from hiding and grabbed Nadir. They were not vampires. They were little more then mindless lackeys.

Humans, Erik realized, whose minds had been coerced by the one currently having his way with Erik in a test of strength. Erik even recalled how one of those mindless servants had given him a rather nasty scar on his abdomen several months ago.

Of course, he had not been mindless at the time. No doubt the Leader had been unhappy with Robert Steven's lack of permanent success and had put him to better use.

"What a good son you are," The Leader began with a smirk, his fingers entwined with Erik's as he pressed the masked hunter's wrists backwards and drove him to his knees. "Even though she made your life a living hell, you still find it in your heart to come get her."

Shay looked at Madeline, who remained rocking hopelessly upon her bed, staring absently at the mirror before her. "You see that, Maddy?" he continued. "You see how your son cares for you?"

With one last hard shove, Erik found himself sprawled on the floor at the man's feet.

How humiliating.

"Don't you feel bad for all the horrible things you did to him now?" Shay continued to taunt Madeline. "He only wanted a mother's love, that's all. He never asked for anything except a hug and a kiss, isn't that so? But no, you were quite the selfish little bitch. Couldn't even give her own son that much."

At his words, Madeline burst into tears, whimpering loudly.

Shay stepped back from Erik, looking upon him wearily. "You know, she has been doing that since I took her from the halfway house," he sighed. "It's getting quite tedious. Perhaps I should stop torturing her mind. It might shut her up!"

Erik watched Madeline Renau with wonder. The woman whom he had once hated and loved more than life itself had turned into nothing more then a sobbing wretch.

The Leader looked back at Erik. "Tell me, did you or your lady start whimpering when I gave you those little dreams the other night?" He asked. Erik's surprise was clear. "Yes. That was me. Who else?" he asked. "And how IS that lovely little ballerina, by the way? Is she keeping you warm in all the right places?"

Erik glared at the Leader. "Don't." he growled.

"Don't… what? Don't mention her?" He shrugged. "Why not. She makes you happy, doesn't she?"

He furrowed his brow and studied Erik closer, bending down a little to take in his masked face. "She makes you _very_ happy, it seems. But… you would be happier if you could have your naughty little way with her, wouldn't you?" Erik's jaw clenched, the muscle beginning to twitch.

"Now don't bother denying it. Regardless of appearances, you're still a MAN," Shay continued, "I'm sure you have some very colourful dreams about that darling girl. Shame on you. As if she would ever part her legs for a creature as ugly as you."

The Leader then smirked coldly. "However, I imagine she can be easily seduced by a handsome face like mine…"

Erik jumped to his feet and lunged recklessly at the man who mocked him, pinning him to the ground with a ferocious snarl, hands wrapping around his throat.

"Don't. Talk. About. Her. That. Way!" He punctuated each word by slamming the Leader's head against the floor. "EVER!"

Shay laughed, unfazed by the vicious and highly emotional attack. "Oh you're so defensive of her virtue! But she's been teasing you for so long. I'm surprised you just haven't taken what you wanted from her yet. She's a little thing. She can't fight you."

"I will never HURT her!" Erik hissed.

"You should be a little more obvious about your intentions, you know." Shay said as he shoved Erik off and jumped to his feet. Erik was about to attack again, but Nadir's voice stopped him.

"Don't let him make you angry!" Nadir called out, "You can't-" His words were cut off with a tight hand around the throat from one of his captors.

Erik turned towards Nadir and reached into his pocket for the rope, but Shay saw his intent, "Tsk tsk, Erik. You kill any of my people, I kill your precious mother." Erik spun around to see Shay's fingers tangled in Madeline's hair. She looked terrified. "I won't even need a weapon."

Erik slid his hand back out of his pocket and held his empty palm out. Shay sighed in disappointment but let Madeline go. "Really, my boy, you need a complete personality overhaul. You're too soft."

"I am NOT your boy!" Erik hissed.

The Leader glanced over at Madeline. "You still haven't told him?" he asked. She remained silent, her glassy eyes barely focused on the two similar men before her. "Really, Madeline! A boy has every right to know his father!"

Erik could not believe what he was hearing. "_Father_?" he repeated. "What are you talking about?"

Shay walked in front of Erik. "Put two and two together, son!" he snapped angrily. "Why do you think we look so much alike? Coincidence? You are far more intelligent than that!"

"I… I am NOT your SON!" Erik hissed as he stepped back, shaking his head vehemently. "No. It… it can't be!"

The Leader raised an eyebrow. "And why not?" he asked. "You should be proud! You're SPECIAL!" Shay narrowed his golden eyes, "Listen to me now... you know who I am."

Erik felt a sharp pressure in his head, a male voice telling him over and over that it was true. His beautiful voice became a hoarse whisper. "No. No… I… I am not a monster! I am not like _you_!" He glanced over at Madeline, and suddenly sounded like a lost little boy as the voice taunted him. _You're not human... _"Mother?" Erik pleaded. "_Tell_ me it's not true!"

Madeline buried her face in her hands. "I'm sorry. So sorry. Sorry… sorry…" She repeated the word like a mantra.

"Don't be so shocked, Erik." Shay spoke again. "You knew your _differences_ extended far beyond your ugly face. You're a freak of nature, inside and out."

"No." Erik insisted, trying to push the voice out of his head. "Christine… she… she sees me as a _man_!"

"Except she is denying you the _rights _of a man, isn't she?" The Leader smirked.

"She's a good girl!" Erik insisted. "It's … she… she's just being a good girl, that's all! And I… I am trying to be good for HER as well! I _want_ to be good for her!"

"Restraining yourself? Is that it?" The Leader laughed at that. "But you're _not_ a good boy. You're a _bad _boy." He crossed his arms and shook his head. "It's very simple - good girls fall in love with good boys. They don't fall in love with _murderers_. And I'd wager to believe YOUR good girl has never told you she loves you. Am I right?" The Leader asked.

"Christine is young!" Erik replied as something pulled his insecurities to the surface like a magnet. "And she cares for me. She… she is just … not ready."

"Oh really, Erik!" Shay frowned. "I would think a son of mine would have more _balls _then to let a girl play with him like that!" He stepped towards the masked man and smiled once again. Erik almost stumbled as he felt Shay's presence invading his mind.

"Ahhh, I see," the Leader continued. "You already had it out with her about playing games. So perhaps she IS serious about you… but you hold back your attentions from her because you don't want to frighten her away." He sighed. "You won't get anywhere like that. You are my SON, Erik! _Stop _trying to suppress your true nature and just GIVE IN to it!"

Before Erik could respond, a sharp pain filled his head, sending him to his knees with a scream. He grabbed his pounding skull and ripped off the mask, baring his face to everyone in the room. He didn't care about their reactions. The agony was too intense.

Erik's head felt as if his very mind was being squeezed. As if something was being yanked out of it. He begged the pain to stop. Pleaded with whoever would listen to make it go away.

But it was to no avail.

When he could take no more punishment, he collapsed to the ground and allowed the darkness to consume him.

**END OF EPISODE 23**


	24. Episode 24: Changes

**_A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir._

* * *

**

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 24: Changes

By: Elektra

Christine was sleeping soundly, having cried herself to sleep with worry once again.

It had been a week since Madame, Meg, and herself had returned to Ravelle, and none of them had heard from Erik. Christine was starting to have the most horrible dreams about what could have happened to him. She couldn't even concentrate on her studies, especially Vocal Techniques III.

Giry's reassurance that Erik was fine did not help. If he was fine, why hadn't he contacted her? Didn't he know she'd be worried?

Currently, Christine was between sleeping and waking. She heard quiet shuffling in the room – Erik's room, specifically, beneath Residence. She had taken to spending her nights there ever since school returned.

As if that would bring him back any faster.

She was sure she felt something depress the bed, heard the rustle of sheets, felt a body slide in beside her.

Christine was startled fully awake when she felt strong arms around her, pulling her against a firm chest as a mouth descended hungrily upon hers.

She quickly slid a hand up and felt a face – a very _distinct_ face – then melted eagerly into his embrace, tears of relief spilling down her cheeks.

The warm mouth moved from her lips, kissing away the tears before speaking.

"Did you miss me, angel?"

Christine could only sob out Erik's name before burying her face against his chest, not stopping to think why Erik was suddenly acting so forward with her. She could only presume that he had missed her as well.

"I will take that as a _yes_ then…" he replied, then brushed his lips against her neck, bringing forth a pleasant shudder from the petite dancer. "And I am so very happy to see _you_…" he murmured.

Christine was enjoying Erik's attention, even the feel of his long graceful fingers against the bare skin of her back. 

_Wait a minute…_

"Erik?" she whispered, realizing his hand had slid beneath her tank top.

"Mmmm… yes, angel?" He whispered as he continued to kiss her neck, his lips trailing to her shoulder, then her collarbone as his fingers traveled beneath the material, over her sides and brushed against her stomach.

Christine's heart began to pound as his physical attentions sent a rush of heat through her…

… but his behaviour was completely out of character!

"Erik, what… what are you doing?" She asked. He didn't answer. "Did… did something happen?" She should probably be worried about where his hands were wandering, but for some reason, it didn't really matter at the moment.

Erik remained silent, still touching, kissing. "Erik?" Christine repeated as she attempted to calm her quickening pulse. "Please talk to me…" she gently grasped his hands and met the glowing orbs that were his eyes. "You've never acted like this before."

"There is really nothing to talk about. I missed you very much, that is all." His lips found hers yet again.

She didn't even realize his fingers had slid from her grip until she felt strong hands grasping her backside, pressing her full against him.

Christine quickly pulled away from the kiss, eyes going wide. _He wasn't kidding when he said he was happy to see me!_

A low primal growl escaped Erik's throat as he slid his mouth over the pulse in her neck, nipping ever so lightly as his fingers slid just beneath the waistband of her sleep pants.

"Erik!" Christine yelped. She quickly slid away from his wandering hands and sat against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest. "What's gotten into you?"

She felt him move, a lamp flickering on beside the bed. "I have missed you." He smirked as he reclined back on his elbows.

"I can _see_ that, but…" Christine put a shaking hand to her chest, meeting the golden depths that perused her body from beneath a thick curtain of ebony hair - hair, she noted, that had grown longer over the summer. So much so that it brushed his bare shoulders.

Christine silently cursed herself for thinking about his long hair and lack of a shirt at this time. _Back to the issue at hand – Erik is acting very… un-Erik-y… _she reminded herself.

She studied him, ignoring the way her pulse quickened and her stomach fluttered. She took in his wretched corpse's face… his beautiful golden eyes… his incredibly appealing form...

_Stop it, Christine!_ She silently scolded herself. _Try to figure out what's changed!_ She took a deep shaky breath, and… "Oh god!" she gasped as she finally realized what she saw before her.

It was her Erik –without his _restraint!_

Gone was his polite façade. Instead, he was reveling in the primal darkness she always knew he kept hidden just below the surface.

"Christine?" He reached a hand out to her, but she resisted taking it. He raised an eyebrow, lips quirked into a half smirk. "I thought you _wanted _me to touch you, angel. Why so shy now?"

His voice made Christine's breath catch.

It's not that she didn't know his voice was beautiful - she had heard it enough times - it was that she didn't know his voice could sound like… _that._ Rolling over her skin like an electric current, making her ache just a little.

_This _was the part of him that he had warned Christine existed deep inside. The part he feared would drive her away.

Christine had to force herself to look away from those golden depths. He was not hiding the hunger he had for her. She had only seen a glimmer of it once before, and he had quickly covered it up then.

This time, however, he _wanted _her to see it. And she wasn't sure whether to be flattered or afraid.

Christine let out a startled shout as Erik was suddenly in front of her. His arms were on either side of her body, palms flat against the wall to prevent her from moving.

He lowered his head, nuzzling his face against her neck. "Mmmm, you smell wonderful." Christine closed her eyes a moment, silently cursing herself for enjoying his attention.

Yes, it was what she had wanted… but what he was expecting was far more than what she was ready to give him. Not to mention that his behaviour would have been far more comforting had it not appeared out of nowhere. Had Erik not disappeared for two weeks after facing his worst enemy.

She suddenly pressed her hands against his chest, trying to push him away as she attempted to speak. Her voice was no more then a croak. She swallowed nervously and tried once more. "Please… Erik… I think maybe… I should … go back to my room."

Erik lifted his head and met her eyes. "And _I_ think, maybe, you should stay _here_." He was pouting! Of all things…

Christine raised a hand to his face, voice soft. "Do you know I've been waiting for you every night since you went off to face the Leader?" she asked. "I was so worried. Afraid-" she swallowed back a sob, "afraid you'd never come back. I'm so relieved to see you, Erik. I spent almost every night _worrying _about you! But… your conduct… while _really_ flattering… is making me a bit nervous right now."

"Why?" He demanded as he pushed away from her and rocked back on the balls of his feet. "Because of _this_?" He put a hand to his face. "Would you rather I put my mask back on? Is the very sight of me disgusting you!"

"NO! Erik, that's not it at all!" Christine protested. "Mask or no mask, I still enjoy your attention. I love it when you touch me and kiss me and hold me. But…" she swallowed hard. "But this isn't the right time to-"

"…to give yourself to a _freak_?" he growled.

Christine shook her head, eyes wide. "What's gotten into you? You were never like this before!" She then realized something. It should have been clear after her _own_ run in with the Leader. "What did _HE _do to you?"

"He woke me up!" Erik answered harshly, knowing of whom she was speaking. "My real nature has been sleeping far too long!" He cocked his head, glaring at her, "You _knew _this was inside me, angel. I TOLD you it was! You had even seen hints of it yourself! And yet… you still wanted me. You _cared _for me!"

"And I STILL want you! I STILL care for you! It's just that… your _behaivour _is-"

Erik interrupted her words with a cold chuckle. "I see now. You thought you could _heal_ me." He started. "Make it all go away with your sweet little kisses. With your good intentions. With your declarations of love!" He stopped. "Oh wait now… you never DID say you loved me…"

"Neither did YOU!" Christine shot back, getting more then a little angry with his disturbing mood swings.

"Very well." He hissed. "I LOVE you! I am IN LOVE with you! I _have_ been for a long time. I have never had the courage to _tell _you until now. I was afraid it would frighten you away!" His voice cracked with emotion.

Christine's heart skipped a beat as she met Erik's eyes. She knew. She knew he had meant every thing he had said.

He grasped her face in his hands, his amber eyes darkening with desire as they bored into hers. "And there is something _else _you should know, angel." He began. "I _desire_ you. I desire you so much, my entire body _aches _with it!" Christine averted her eyes, cheeks flushing.

"Christine..." He cried out, "Don't you understand what you've DONE to me?" He suddenly pressed his hungry mouth against hers once more, parting her lips as his tongue fervently met hers.

He quickly released the embrace before she could push him away again. "You've made me _need. _You've made me _want_! How does it feel to know a damaged man _loves_ you? That he dreams… perhaps… one day… when you are a few years older… you may consider him a possible _husband_?"

"Erik..." Christine wasn't sure what to say. _He wants to marry me? _She had never realized the depths of his feelings for her.

His voice then grew low, dangerous. "And how does it feel to know a MONSTER _hungers_ for you? Writhes with need of your innocent little body? Aches to touch your skin, to _feel_ you?"

He released all physical contact, studying her with narrowed eyes. "I am very aware of the effect my voice has on people. _Women_ especially. If I did not want YOU so much, I could easily go out and find another. She would not have to see my face, you understand. All it would take is my voice and she would be mine!"

He leaned forward. "Would you like me to do that, Christine? At least my attentions will be off you that way. Of course, whenever you are ready, I will be eagerly waiting for you!"

Christine's hand flew before she even realized it, connecting soundly with Erik's skeletal cheek. She put that same hand to her mouth. "Oh... God... Erik...I... I'm sorry..." she was shocked at her own response, amazed how deeply his words had hurt her. The very thought of him with another woman was like someone ripping out her heart.

"Oh my, angel!" Erik began with a smirk, a hand caressing the cheek she had just slapped. "You are quite the fiery little thing, aren't you?" He shrugged, "But then I have known that for a while now. I remember how feisty you were the first night we met. It intrigued me. It's one of the reason I could not hide from you. You woke something in me that night..."

He reached out and traced his fingers down her cheek, her neck, his voice growing husky. "Such a passionate girl you are. I can hear it when you sing. I _desire_ you almost as much as I _love_ you!"

Christine had no words.

What happened to the Erik who had been happy with the affection she gave him? The Erik who acted reserved when she wanted to offer him more then a few shy hugs and kisses?

She met his eyes once more. He was still her Erik… but… he was also very different. His inhibitions were gone. His uncertainty was gone. He knew what he wanted, and he didn't appreciate being rebuffed. 

_And he's in love with me… Christine recalled._

Erik reached out to touch her again, but Christine shook her head. 

_Erik is in love with me! And I'm… Oh god…_

She suddenly pushed past Erik and jumped off the bed, running out of the room in tears.

* * *

Khan residence

Nadir sat in an armchair as he stared at the woman rocking back and forth on the bed before him. He had given her the extra bedroom in his apartment, not wanting to send her back to the halfway house without a proper explanation for her behaviour. No doubt they would think her insane and lock her up. It was bad enough they believed she broke her parole.

Madeline wasn't insane, however. She was currently suffering a nasty bout of nightmares at the moment. It would take some time for them to wear off properly. The Leader had certainly done a number on her.

_The Leader._

Erik's father.

Nadir should not have been surprised, really. All the signs were there. The physical similarities, the meetings with Laura.

"Monster… I'm a monster… Momma hates me."

Nadir was startled from his thoughts by Madeline's mumbling. He wasn't sure whether to pity the woman or condemn her for the ill treatment she had given her son. These dreams had been haunting her for the past week. Perhaps even longer, as Nadir had not known what had gone on in the house on Laramie drive prior to barging in with Erik.

_Erik._

The guild's detective was rather concerned for him. After he had passed out from whatever the Leader had done to him, Nadir had sensed pure ice flowing off the boy. He had not even bothered to see if Madeline was ok. He simply told Nadir to 'bring her', and the three were allowed to leave.

Just like that.

When an enemy allows you to leave his home unharmed, it does not usually bode well.

"I love you, Momma… why do you hate me? Why?" Madeline muttered. She could not tear her eyes away from the mirror on the wall beside the bed. "Monster in the mirror… ugly reflection… no one will love me. No one…"

Nadir suddenly felt a cold stab in his chest. He had overlooked something. A _very important _something.

While Erik may have at once thought no one would love _him_, that did not stop HIM from loving another. 

_Christine!_ Nadir realized. He closed his eyes and silently prayed to his god. _Please… do not let him harm her. Do not let him treat her with the same indifference as he treated his mother. Allah please! Let his heart still remain the same, even if his disposition has not._

He only hoped someone was listening.

* * *

Dean Giry's Office – the next day

Giry was startled from her seat when she heard the silky voice in her ear.

"Antoinette… I am back…"

She looked high and low for the source, but the room was empty. "Erik?"

A chuckle echoed off the wall, "You did not fear me for dead now, did you?"

"Of course not," Giry replied, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with the disembodied voice that surrounded her. "I know you are far more resourceful then that," she answered. "Does Christine know you are here? That you are safe? She was horribly worried. Cried herself to sleep every night."

She heard him scoff. "She knows. Last I saw her, she was running from my bedroom in tears."

"Why? What happened?"

There was a pause, then he answered. "I went to my basement hovel and found my beautiful angel laying in my bed - looking rather _tempting,_ I might add – but when I tried to _show _her how delighted I was to see her, she ran off crying!" Erik growled.

"Please TELL me, Antoinette…" he continued, "Is it really too much to ask that my woman _demonstrate _how glad she is that I am alive?"

Giry felt her blood freeze. "What did you do to her, Erik?" she asked the invisible voice apprehensively.

"Nothing. She would not _let _me!" he hissed. "Devil knows I tried!"

Giry's hand went to her chest, a feeling of foreboding filling her. "Erik, are you well?"

"I am QUITE well!" He answered angrily. "SO damned well that my body spent most of the night in _agony _thanks to my pretty little ballerina!"

Giry jumped at the sound of a fist hitting metal. Her eyes turned upwards. The air ducts. Of course. Where else would Erik be hiding?

"Do you know, Antoinette," he began suddenly, "that if I ever chose to, I could seduce a woman with my voice alone? I just never found the courage to USE it in such a manner!"

His tone then grew angry. "All these years, I could have easily had any_ number _of pretty little ballerinas in my bed! There are women who _like _masked men!"

"ERIK!" Giry was astounded at the way he was speaking. What on earth had happened to him? She was quite sure the Leader had had something to do with his personality change.

She would have to inform the guild of this. Immediately. He could be dangerous…

"Oh do not be so shocked, Antoinette!" Erik responded. "I do not dispute the fact that I am an ugly bastard, but I will not deny that my _body _is in decent form! Many woman would find IT, along with my VOICE, rather appealing!" He was silent a moment. "And yet, I used _both _on Christine last night and _neither_ worked!"

"While I will not condone your new outlook on life, Erik, I should ask why you did NOT take another woman to your bed when Christine left - if that was all you _wanted_." Giry's disapproval was clear in her voice.

"Because I wanted HER in my bed, damn it! Another woman would have meant _nothing_!" he hissed angrily.

Giry found that rather interesting. Whatever else the Leader had done to Erik, he had not changed the man's heart where Christine was concerned.

"I have things to attend to Antoinette. Do you have something for me?" Erik's voice was weary as he spoke.

"Nothing at the moment, Erik." Giry replied. He did not say goodbye, but she knew when he was gone.

The ballet mistress glanced over at the folder on the table. It was a _special assignment _the Guild had asked her to give to Erik upon his return.

Under the circumstances, however, Giry was quite sure it would have been a bad idea.

* * *

Rehearsal Room – air ducts (two hours later)

Erik watched Giry's ballet class through the metal grate beneath him, feasting his eyes on all the scantily clad girls that were currently in the process of twisting and turning every which way.

His eyes instantly shifted to the petite brunette currently stretching out her slender legs. 

Christine…

He watched her every move, his eyes slowly tracing the planes of her body, the gentle curve of hips and breast. He admired the smoothness of her slender neck, the long dark ringlets she had tied back with a white satin bow.

He couldn't stop his breath from catching as he was rewarded with a glimpse of Christine's beautiful blue eyes. Eyes that were currently echoing the smile on her lips. 

_Warm soft lips..._

Erik clenched his right hand into a fist, remembering how sweet those lips had tasted last night. If she had only stayed...

A low growl involuntarily escaped his throat as he watched Christine arch her little body backwards. He had a brief image of that same little body arching beneath him.

Erik was startled from his thoughts as he felt something wet trickling over his wrist.

He quickly unclenched his hand, seeing that his nails had dug four bloody half-moons into his flesh. "Shit…" he hissed.

While the damage wasn't enough to concern himself with, he was astounded that it had even happened in the first place. His tongue quickly darted out, licking the blood from his palm. 

_Stop trying to restrain yourself and just GIVE IN to your nature!_ A voice mocked.

Erik grimaced at the unpleasant metallic taste that invaded his mouth. What on Earth had possessed him to do that? 

_What has my father done to me?_

* * *

Dean Giry's office – an hour later

Erik quietly dropped down from the air ducts into Giry's empty office. He had seen a folder on her desk earlier while he had been lurking and speaking to her, but she had denied having an assignment for him.

He knew better.

Erik grabbed the folder and rifled through it.

It seemed another execution was needed. "Why did you not give me this earlier, Madame? Were you concerned for my state of mind?" he asked the empty room.

Erik smirked coldly. He was certainly in the mood to work out his frustrations in _some_ manner. _This _was as good as any.

Checking that he had his rope with him, Erik jumped back up into the air ducts and headed off to find his victim.

* * *

Eaton and Bay – wooded area (1 hour later)

Erik looked down at the unmoving form at his feet. The sixteen-year old boy had been attempting to call forth some demon-or-other with the pitiful little flaming pentagram he had created amongst the trees.

The boy would have succeeded - if not for the fact he had found a rope around his neck before he could finish the incantation.

"Tsk tsk, Antoinette. Your unwarranted concern for me almost caused us problems," he sighed as he wound his rope up once again.

He knew whatever the boy had been attempting to call up was one of the weaker creatures. Something the hunters could have easily taken care of. Maybe the boy could have survived too – if he was lucky.

But no matter. The assignment had still been requested of him, and he was glad to oblige.

He stopped coiling his rope for a moment when he noticed something silver and shiny sticking out of the boy's pocket. He bent down to pick it up, and smiled at his find. "Ah! Nintendo DS. I have always wanted one of these."

He quickly slid the hand-held game player into his duster, his thoughts fondly going back to the days when he would often steal from others – before he could actually afford to buy that which he wanted.

Today, however, that logic did not seem to matter. It's not like the boy would be able to use the toy anymore anyway.

Erik heard a light clapping behind him, and spun around to see the Leader smiling proudly.

"That's my son! A nice clean kill. No regrets. No remorse. No worry about tainting pretty girls with your touch." He raised an eyebrow, "Speaking of which – did you _enjoy _tainting her?"

Erik frowned, then turned his attention back to his rope. "My woman was less than forth-coming with her affections."

"Really? What happened?" The Leader seemed eager for details.

"The girl ran from my room in tears. She thinks I am quite the bastard now, I imagine," Erik replied.

Shay furrowed his brow. "And did you let her running stop you?" he asked.

Erik slid his rope into the pocket of his duster. "What would you have had me do, Shay? Chase after the girl and _force _my attentions upon her?" he asked.

"Well, if she is going to be difficult-" Shay could not finish his comment as a blur of black velvet found him pinned beneath his son's body, a strong hand wrapped hard around his throat.

"You sick bastard!" Erik hissed. "How can you even SUGGEST I do such a thing?"

Shay's golden eyes went wide as he stared up at his son. "Did I not TELL you to give in to your true nature?" He barked angrily.

"My _true nature_ still LOVES her!" Erik growled. "That is not something you – in all your infinite power - can ever _change_!"

Shay smirked. "We shall see in time then…" he said. "You will grow tired of her refusal soon enough."

Before Erik could respond, he found himself thrown several feet away. The Leader disappearing into the shadows before Erik could pounce again.

* * *

Christine and Meg's Dorm

Christine and Meg walked into their room, book-bags in hand after returning from their afternoon classes. Christine gasped as she saw the single red rose on her bed, a note stuck to it with tape. She simply stood there staring at it, afraid to pick it up.

"Is Erik leaving you little love notes now?" Meg asked cheerily, Christine having told her the College ghost was back in town – though leaving out the details of their encounter.

"Considering the way he acted last night," Christine began, "It's probably some lewd thing…"

Meg blinked at that. "Say what? HOW did he act last night, Chrissy?"

Christine blushed. "Let's just say he was… um… _really _happy to see me…"

Meg was shocked for a minute, then smirked. "Isn't that a GOOD thing though?" she asked. "It means he's NORMAL!" A pause, "Well, where it's _important _anyway," She winked.

Christine shook her head. "I could have done without his wandering hands."

"WHAT?" Meg choked. "My god, he's turned into RJ!"

Christine glanced back at her friend, her voice growing quiet. "It wasn't funny, Meg."

"Sorry, honey," Meg apologized. "But let's face it – the guy hasn't been touched by a woman in over thirty years. Those hormones have been raging for a long time."

Before Christine could respond, Meg shook her head. "Not like that's an excuse, of course. But it might help explain it a little." She indicated the note still sitting on Christine's bed. "At least see what he left you. Maybe it's an apology? Maybe facing that creepy guy didn't go very well and he needed some TLC?"

Christine slowly picked up the rose, hands trembling. "He… he said he _loves_ me, Meg…" Her voice was barely a whisper. "He's IN LOVE with me. And that he's felt that way for a long time."

Meg put a hand to her chest. "Oh Chrissy! What I wouldn't give to hear RJ say that." Her eyes were a mix of fascination and envy.

Christine nibbled her lower lip. "I don't know what frightened me more – his behaviour, or that confession." She sunk down on the bed, lifting the note from her pillow but not yet reading it.

"There was something _wrong_ with him. He wasn't acting right." She glanced at her friend. "Does that make me a bad person? That I ran away from my own boyfriend?"

"Oh honey, don't think that way!" Meg put a hand on her shoulder. "If Erik's behaviour changed so drastically, you have every right to be nervous around him."

Christine blinked back the tears and slowly unfolded the paper in her hand, reading it aloud. "Angel – I meant everything I said last night. I will not apologize or beg forgiveness for my behaviour…"

"He calls you _angel_?" Meg replied as she sat down beside Christine. "That's just… so sweet!"

Christine blushed a little, then continued. "We need to talk. In person. I will be home all night as I do not have anyone to make plans with, considering you are the only one who will ever be of any interest to me. With love: your resident ghost."

"Okay. Pardon me while I die of envy," Meg muttered. "RJ never leaves _me_ roses and notes…"

"Come with me?" Christine asked suddenly. Meg seemed unsure. "Please, Meggy? I don't know if I can face him alone."

Meg let out a soft sigh. "Oh fine. Where does he live?"

Christine offered a small smile, "In the cellar…"

* * *

Residence cellar

"I had no idea he lived down here," Meg whispered softly as Christine found the hidden alcove that provided her access to Erik's door.

"No one does… and it needs to stay that way, Meggy. You already told RJ he was the ghost." Christine scolded.

"I'm sorry. I was just annoyed mom was keeping secrets from me."

Christine nodded and grasped Meg's hand, walking into the candlelit room as the door shut with a quiet _woosh_ behind them.

"Uh… candles?" Meg began. "I don't think I should have come with you…"

"No no… he prefers it this way. It doesn't mean anything more then that." Christine explained. _I hope_… she added silently, then turned her back for a moment to pet Odin, who had decided to curl his tail around her leg. "It's his eyes…" she continued as she scratched behind the little cat's ears. "They're used to the dark."

"Used to the dark?" Meg responded. "Chrissy, sweetie, can I just tell you that your boyfriend is really-" Meg's voice suddenly caught, her next words coming out hoarse. "wet…"

"_What_?" Christine spun around to see Erik standing in front of his bathroom door wearing only a pair of sweat pants and his mask.

"I wasn't expecting you so quickly, let alone with _company_," he replied harshly as he raised a small towel to dry his dripping hair. "Be lucky I heard Little Giry's voice - or else I would not have grabbed the mask!"

He glanced over at Meg, golden eyes reflecting the fire off the candlelight. "Trust me, it would not have been pretty."

"Well… if you don't mind me saying, Erik - the _rest _of you is pretty enough!" Meg replied, unable to tear her eyes away.

"Hey!" Christine snapped at her friend.

"Well, it's true!" Meg replied, indicating the man before them. She then gently shoved Christine towards him, whispering in her ear. "You're on your own here, honey!"

"Wait! Meggy, no!" Christine gasped, but Meg was out the door and long gone before Christine could grab her

"Why did you lead her here?" Erik demanded as he stepped closer to Christine. "She will be telling her boyfriend and her little ballerina friends about my whereabouts in no time!"

"No! She said she wouldn't!" Christine insisted.

"Just like she didn't tell RJ about me being the ghost of Ravelle?" Erik accused.

Christine bit her lip. "I'm sorry. She just got annoyed with all the secrets. But now that she knows, she won't say a word!"

Erik slipped the mask off his face and tossed it to the side, glancing irritably at the nervous girl before him. He took a step closer, and she stumbled back, landing awkwardly on the bed.

His foul expression suddenly changed into an amused smirk. "Well now… that's a good place to start our discussion…"

"Erik!" Christine immediately hugged herself, only to find that he didn't attempt to touch her.

Instead, he knelt before her on the floor, staring up at her with the warmest expression she had ever seen.

Erik took a deep breath and Christine noted that it was somewhat shaky.

"He changed me," Erik said bluntly. "NO - he did not influence me to say or do anything I didn't want to," he explained before she could ask. "Nor will I apologize for letting you know my true feelings – emotional _and_ physical. _He_, however, is the one responsible for pulling it out of me and bringing it to the surface. He took away my … _discipline_, so to speak."

Christine didn't need to ask _who_ as Erik sat at her feet and rested his head against her thigh.

She didn't know what to say, instead gently stroking his damp hair in response. To have his mind invaded the way this man had done! As if what he went through as a child wasn't bad enough!

How she wished she could make all his pain go away.

"Do you love me?" Erik asked suddenly.

Christine was started out of her thoughts by his question. She looked down at him and her throat tightened. "Do I… what?"

His golden eyes stared up at her and for a moment, he suddenly looked like a frightened little boy waiting for approval. 

_Erik… why? Why are you asking me that? Can't you see I'm afraid? I'm not ready..._

Christine took a deep shaky breath and offered the best answer she could. "I… don't know." She said finally.

Erik closed his eyes a moment and turned his head away, swallowing hard at her words. _Of course she doesn't love you. Why would she? _His thoughts mocked him.

"I… I care about you. A lot."

It took Erik a moment to realize Christine was speaking to him again. He looked up at her, hoping she did not see the tears that threatened to slip from his eyes.

"So much that it hurts sometimes," She continued. "That's why… that's why your behaviour the other night upset me."

"_Frightened _you, you mean," Erik replied, then let out a soft sigh. "At least 'I don't know' is better then an outright rejection. And to know that you care for me gives me hope." _Please love me, angel. I promise I'll be good… _Erik pleaded silently.

"Erik," she spoke softly. "I don't-" she swallowed nervously. "I don't know if this is right."

"If _what_ is a right?" he asked, pushing aside the ache in his chest.

Christine closed her eyes. "We don't know what happened to you. How much was changed." She whispered softly.

Erik's eyes didn't leave her as he climbed onto the bed and sat beside her. "Christine? What are you saying?"

Christine met his eyes. "I'd be lying if I pretended I was _comfortable _with this new personality you've developed."

He reached out to touch her face, but halted and brought his hand back to his side. "My feelings for you are not going to change, if that's what worries you." Erik replied.

"It's not that…" she shook her head. "I just think we need to figure out what happened before we take the next step in our relationship."

His jaw tensed, "It seems the Leader had his way after all. He wanted me to run you off." He could not look at her. "If I frighten _you_, of all people, then I truly _am_ a monster…"

"Don't call yourself that!" she scolded.

"Please leave." His voice sounded detached as he slid off the bed. "Now." He turned his scarred back to her, an icy shield coming over him.

"Erik…" Christine started as she moved to stand behind him.

"GET OUT!" He shouted, rounding angrily on her. "You do not love me! I understand!" he hissed. "So do not stand here and TORTURE me!"

"But that's _not_ what I meant! I just wanted to-"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" He roared, heading into the washroom and slamming the door behind him. She heard the sound of a fist shattering glass.

For the second time that week, Christine ran out of Erik's room in tears.

* * *

Dean Giry's office

Giry frowned at the folder on her desk. It was slightly crinkled, and she knew she had not done it. 

Erik…

The folder had contained orders for an execution. She had purposely avoided giving it to him. His state of mind as of late had been troublesome.

The fact that he had WILLINGLY executed disturbed her greatly. Especially after his constant refusals and hesitation as of late.

She only hoped he did not turn his newfound desire for bloodshed onto Christine. 

END OF EPISODE 24


	25. Episode 25: Words Unspoken

_A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir._

_A big thank you to all my reviewers and readers! I really appreciate it!_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 25: Words Unspoken

By: Elektra

_His presence in my mind is looming. Dark and foreboding. _

**Give in… **a voice urges me, **I will not let you go until you do…**

Let me go? Is he speaking of his unwanted presence?

I wander the streets aimlessly after he attacks me. No, it was not a physical attack, but it was an attack nonetheless.

I cannot get him out of my head. I have tried. He is in my mind, ripping away the control I have built. The restraint I am so very proud of.

I have his darkness. I share his bloodlust. They have always been a part of me. This is apparent in my Executions. But that is not something I give into wantonly.

**Give in! **He demands still.

How long has it been? A week now?

No one knows where I am. No doubt they think I have disappeared.

He has already done his damage to me.

I have been wandering amongst the shadows aimlessly, hiding from prying eyes. Visions invade my senses. The faces of all those I have executed haunt me.

**Give in! **He commands one more time. **I can take away the guilt. I can give you confidence.**

I find myself doing as he asks.

At least, for the most part. There is something stopping me from completely going over the edge and losing my conscience forever.

Her.

How many days is it before I finally decide to return to her? I have lost count.

**I will be watching you…**_his voice then goes silent in my head. _

Of course he will be watching me. He intends to see me break completely. He intends to have me under his control.

It will not happen, but he will watch and wait nonetheless.

Now, as I step through the door of my basement hovel, I find my mind and body far less shackled then it was before.

And I see my beautiful angel waiting for me…

Erik pushed himself up in bed, remembering with little clarity the time he had spent wandering the streets after he and Nadir confronted the Leader.

Somehow he had not been able to bring himself to face anyone once he had seen Madeline and Nadir off to safety. Perhaps that was a reaction to the strange power that had overcome his mind prior to leaving the house on Laramie Drive.

He had temporarily lost all contact with the world, truly a ghost. Was it a week? No… more than that. Christine was back at school. It had to have been at least two weeks since that night he had run out of the Giry house in pursuit of his mother.

He had returned to his basement a different man, as Christine had found out when he happened upon her sleeping - quite innocently - in his bed.

He was not so different that she could not recognize him, but different enough that she grew _frightened_ of him.

With a deep breath, Erik pushed himself out of bed and stretched out his tall, lean frame.

He suddenly needed some fresh air.

* * *

**Student Lounge – an hour later**

"I saw it! I saw the ghost!"

Christine's ears perked up at the excited voice bursting through the door to the student lounge. She recognized the boy as one of the set design students – Jacob Lefevre.

"It was the ugliest thing I've ever seen!" Jacob continued. "He had death's face, and this horrible booming voice, and a hole for a nose..." The boy was practically out of breath, "...and he was oozing with nasty pus and slime!"

"Erik does NOT ooze! _Anything!_" Christine muttered to Meg.

Meg snickered under her breath. "Maybe you should tell your ghost that people are making up stories about him."

Christine glanced away. "I can't," she frowned. "He hasn't spoken to me all week." She shook her head. "I tried to call him, but he doesn't answer. I was debating going to the arts building, but…" she took a deep breath. "…he was so angry at me. Maybe he thought I was breaking up with him or something." Christine looked hopelessly at her friend. "But I _wasn't_, Meg. I care about him too much to do that. Why can't he understand that I'm just a little freaked out by his new behaviour?"

"Give him time. Even before he … _changed_, Erik had a habit of overreacting to things. Maybe it'll just take him longer to calm down this time."

"I hope you're right. I really do." Christine sighed. Meg put a hand on her friend's shoulder, squeezing gently.

After a few minutes, Meg spoke again. "Chrissy... does Erik _really _have a hole for a nose?"

Before she could answer, a noise from the other side of the lounge caught their attention.

A ballet student named Jammes made a sound that could only be described as a "squee". She quickly grabbed the radio beside her and turned the volume up all the way.

The entire lounge was stunned into silence as a beautiful heavenly voice filled the room.

Christine immediately froze. "Meggy?" She whispered. "That… that's on the radio!"

Meg nodded eagerly "This guy is amazing, Chrissy. He has this incredible range! And he apparently wrote the music and words himself."

Christine swallowed nervously. "When did the radio start playing this?" she asked.

"A few days ago. They said someone sent it to them anonymously. Just listen - his voice is the sexiest thing I've ever heard!" She swooned along with the other girls in the lounge.

Christine listened carefully to the song. She knew the voice. There was no mistake.

When it was over, Christine grasped Meg's hand. "Who's the artist?"

"The DJs just call him _Cam_." She replied.

Christine's voice was barely above a whisper. "I just call him _Erik_…" she said.

"That's HIM?" Meg sputtered. "I _thought_ the voice sounded familiar! I just hadn't heard him sing enough to have made the connection!" She smirked. "If a man sang that way to ME, _I _wouldn't care about his face _either_…" Meg stopped when she noticed Christine's rather possessive glare.

"Er… sorry, Chrissy…" she said quickly. "Maybe you should talk to your recluse of a boyfriend. Because I don't think he's going to be allowed to hide for much longer after this."

* * *

**Arts Building – Music Room (late night)**

Erik sat before the piano, furiously composing a new tune on the paper before him. The composition was for _her_. His Christine. Though whether she would ever see it was another matter.

"I hear Shay gave you a new attitude, Erik," a voice spoke from the window. Erik glanced over to see Laura slipping in. "I'd like to witness it for myself." She smirked.

"What is there to witness?" Erik asked. "There is not much difference aside from the fact I have become far bolder expressing my desires; I am not afraid to rip my mask off in front of frightened college boys; and I have somehow managed to release a hit single."

"I find that first one _most_ interesting!" she smirked. "I am guessing, however, that little miss innocent has yet to let you _enjoy _the fruits of your boldness?"

"That is none of your business, Laura."

"You may tell her what you did with ME though," she smirked.

"And what, exactly, did I do with you? I did not even SEE you at the house. No doubt you were sleeping the day away in a coffin or some such thing."

"Oh, coffins can be quite comfortable to sleep in." Laura replied. "But I was referring to what you are going to do with me NOW," she finished.

"Which would be?" he asked. "Tell you to go to Hell and hope you burn there?"

"Oh Erik! How rude!" Laura tsk tsk'd.

In a blur of blond hair and pale skin, she was straddling his lap, her fingers entwined in his hair as she pulled his mouth into a rather intrusive kiss.

Erik responded on an instinctive level. She was, after all, an attractive woman.

After several moments, Laura pulled away, eyes dark as she licked her lips. "Finally! I knew you would be a passionate kisser!"

He contemplated the kiss for a few moments, then frowned. "That really didn't do much for me."

Laura seemed shocked. "What? But… your tongue was in my mouth!" she protested.

Erik shrugged. "So it was, but you really don't excite me. Not to mention, you taste like death."

Laura jumped to her feet, eyes wide. The look of shock on her face was priceless. Erik laughed at her indignation, which only made her angrier.

"How could I NOT excite you?" She spat. "I certainly excite your _father_!"

His laughter quickly died as he grimaced in disgust. "How very disturbing! Why not go after my _mother _while you're at it. Make it a family thing."

Laura put her hands on hips, glaring daggers at the man before her. "How is it that some little girl turns you on - and yet someone like myself with FAR more experience and skills, does _not_?"

"Because that _little girl, _as you call her, is Christine. And you are _not_." He shrugged. "So goes life. Or _un-life_, in your case."

She shook her head vehemently. "No! That's… that's not supposed to happen!" she stamped a foot angrily. "You're supposed to be filled with lust and desire!"

"Oh trust me, lovely Laura – I most definitely _am_. But not for YOU." He explained.

Fuming at his words, Laura screamed in frustration, "You WILL be!" she demanded. "I'll TAKE you from her! I SWEAR I will!" she cried out, then slid through the window and disappeared into the night.

Erik watched her go, then turned back to his composition.

* * *

**Dean Giry's Office – The next morning**

"So," the voice on the other side of the phone spoke to Giry, "you are saying that Erik did his job then?" Gus Leroux, head of the Hunter's Guild, did not seem overly concerned about Erik's recent behaviour. "What, exactly, is the problem here, Ant?"

"The fact that he is suddenly fine with all this after expressing his earlier desire to stop, Gus!" Giry answered.

"His earlier hesitation was a detriment to the Guild. It's better this way. He has gotten over his infatuation with the girl, and-"

"It is FAR more than an infatuation!" Giry informed the man. "He is_ in love _with her!"

"Well, as long as he does what we require of him, I do not care whom he spends his nights with."

"You are not the least bit concerned that the Leader may have a hand in his new attitude?" Giry asked.

"Has he killed any Hunters? No. Has he killed those walking down the street? No. He has only executed his quarry. Your concerns are personal, Ant, and do not pertain to the Guild. If he shows signs of traitorous conduct, THEN you can call me! I am a very busy man! Good day, Madame."

With a loud click, the line went dead.

Giry stared at the phone, shocked by Gus' unfeeling response. He really _had_ no use for Erik aside from what he found beneficial.

She took a deep breath, and cradled the handset.

She only hoped Erik's behaviour did not became dangerous to those around him.

* * *

**Erik's Room – that afternoon**

"What do you want, Christine?" Erik replied when he heard the light knock at his door. He was continuing to write his composition from the comfort of his bed, wanting to avoid Laura at all costs.

He didn't even bother reaching for his mask as Christine walked in. It was not as if she hadn't seen his corpse's face enough times.

"Erik?" Christine began nervously. "I heard something on the radio yesterday…"

"A new song, I presume. By a mysterious new artist." He spoke coldly, seemingly uninterested in her presence – though he was finding it difficult to _remain _uninterested once he saw how nicely her low-rise jeans fit, her midriff peeking out between the waistband and the bottom of her baby-t. How he wanted to run his hands over that taunting skin.

Erik quickly turned back to his composition, hoping she didn't see the look in his eyes. "I was wondering when you'd find out about that. I hear it is one of the fastest rising songs on the charts."

"I hear it's going to get the artist into trouble if people find out who he really is." Christine frowned. "And you were blasting _me_ for showing Meg where you live!"

Erik shrugged. "No one knows that I am _Cam_, though. They'll never figure it out."

"Except people will WANT to know. And they'll be DETERMINED to figure it out!" She insisted. "I thought _ghosts _were supposed to be invisible!"

Christine let out a surprised yelped as Erik suddenly stood before her, leaving barely any space between them. "Not that it is any of your business," he started, "But I do not have plans to be paraded about in public!"

Christine let out a sigh, seeing his mind would not be changed. "If that's what you want, Erik, I won't try to talk you out of it… but… can I ask a question?"

"What?" He growled.

"Why?"

The deep breath he expelled brushed against her hair. He moved forward slowly, causing Christine to step back and meet the wall. "Because I wanted to be _heard_, angel. Is that really so much to ask?"

His words made Christine's heart ache. He was right, of course. A musical talent like his should be noticed by more than frightened college students who thought he was a ghost.

She affectionately rested her hands against his chest, lifting her head to meet his eyes. "I'm just worried about you," she spoke softly. "If you wanted to stay in hiding, you may not be able to now."

"Ahhh, I see." He pressed his hands against the wall, leaning forward. "You would rather keep me all to yourself." His lips were only inches from hers. "And here I thought you wanted nothing to do with me."

"Erik, please. You _know_ that not what I meant." Christine craned her head up, wanting to close the distance. She closed her eyes, felt his breath on her cheek, tilted her head just a little bit more, and then…

Erik suddenly pushed away, knowing full well what Christine had been trying to do. "_I don't know if this is right._" He mocked. "Is that not what you said?"

She opened her eyes again, blinking at how he so blatantly refused to kiss her. She glanced away from him, swallowing hard. "I wasn't talking about US, Erik. I was talking about the _difference _in your-" She stopped and shook her head. What was the point?

She decided to change the subject. "Where did you get the name? _Cam_ I mean."

He turned back to her. "It stands for _Christine's Angel of Music_…"

"Oh!" Christine gasped, touched by the gesture.

"As I said, my feelings for you will not change." He grasped the composition on his bed and held it out to her. "This song is for YOU, by the way,"

She was surprised, but took the paper and began to read the notes and words, humming it softly. "It's so pretty…"

He circled behind her, looking at the paper over her shoulder. "I have been remiss with your lessons as of late. It is time to start them up once again."

Christine glanced back at him. His voice sounded so distant. "Oh… yes. I would like that."

"Good. But first…" he went to his closet and opened it. "We are going out."

Christine simply stared at him. "_Out_?" she repeated. "But… you… we… you've never asked me to go out with you before!"

"Then it is about time I did." He answered matter-of-factly.

"It's… still daylight!" she protested. "And you're big on the shadows and darkness!"

"We need to go shopping." He said.

At Christine's surprised look, he explained. "I need your mask-making talents again. Something with material closer to my skin tone so that I may go out and not be so noticeable. I realize that black cotton against skin as pale as mine…" he picked up the other mask she had made and slipped it on,"…is rather conspicuous."

Erik tugged on his duster, then reached up towards the shelf and grabbed the fedora he usually wore to the opera, pulling it down far enough to shadow his face.

"Come now, angel. What woman does not like going shopping?" he asked.

Christine was about to ask him if he was sure, but from the looks of it, he was _quite_ sure. "Um… o… okay then… but… people will give you weird looks."

He shrugged. "As they always do when I go out in public. Nothing to be done for it."

Christine reached out for his hand, disappointed that she came in contact with the leather he had just tugged on rather then his warm skin.

She began to wonder if a trip to the mall was a good idea.

* * *

**Fairfield Mall – 3 hours later**

Christine looked over the objects in her bag as she waited for Erik outside the men's washroom. Light material to blend with his skin tone, black elastics to mesh with his hair. These would make him a mask that wouldn't be as obvious as the one he now wore.

She glanced down at the bags at her feet. Erik had been rather generous, buying her whatever clothing he thought she looked good in – and harshly critiquing anything that she didn't.

She hadn't appreciated the latter.

A cab was to pick them up shortly, as it would be difficult carrying all the bags back on the bus.

With a frown, Christine remembered the bus ride to the mall. It had been awkward, to say the least. Erik seemed to be the center of some rather unwanted attention from the other occupants.

Stares, whispers, unpleasant comments. As if he couldn't see or hear them. It was no wonder he preferred to stay out of sight.

Erik, for his part, had kept a scowl on his face, ignoring both the passengers and the woman at his side.

Christine heard someone call out her name and turned to see a boy she remembered from high school. They two exchanged pleasantries and a hug as they caught up on old times.

She had not even known Erik had returned before she saw him grab the man hugging her and throw him to the ground.

"Keep your hands OFF her!" He growled angrily, preparing his body for a fight.

"ERIK!" Christine snapped angrily. "How DARE you! He's an old friend of mine!"

"How GOOD a friend IS he?" Erik hissed.

Christine looked up at him, eyes wide. She spun on her heel and stormed out of the mall.

Erik watched her for a moment, then turned his attention back to the man he had accosted.

His victim was currently being helped up by another man. Erik studied the way the two were looking at one another, whispering intimately.

He quickly realized that this person had been no threat to his relationship with Christine. "Shit…" Erik muttered. He left the bags and quickly headed out after her.

* * *

**Ravelle Campus – an hour later**

Erik hadn't seen Christine anywhere near the mall after she had run out. Given no other choice, he had run back in to gather their purchases and took the taxi home. No doubt Christine had come back to campus on her own.

He first went to the Arts building to search for her, but had no luck. It was already dark, and the night had grown chilly. He was growing concerned.

_Well, of course. Why would she want a music lesson NOW_… Erik thought to himself, then quietly condemned what had happened in the mall.

He would not lie – he had always been jealous when it came to Christine Daaé

Ever since he had first developed feelings for her, he had acquired a bad habit of growing angry when another male paid any attention to her. He had been her tutor for a month or so before the first waves of jealousy had become apparent.

He thought nothing of it at first, thinking it was merely the fact he had a female in his presence – a rare occurrence indeed. But then it grew increasingly worse.

How long was it before he finally realized he had feelings for the girl? Several months. It had come to a head when Raoul De Chagny had asked her to marry him.

Erik was lost then. The very pain that went through his body at the thought of being without her had caused him to tear apart his room.

At least that had been in _private_.

Erik continued to look for his little ballerina. Where was she? He had checked her dorm room with no luck. What if she hadn't made it back at all? What if something had caught her along the way?

It was dark out now. He knew what kind of creatures lurked in the dark.

Erik thought a moment. Where did she go when she was upset?

There was only one place.

Erik quickly headed off campus, down Ivy Avenue, a left turn at Vine Street. As he grew closer to his destination, Erik frowned.

Of course, why should things be so easy? THEY found HIM before HE could find _her_.

Erik reached into his duster and pulled out a stake, readying himself as the two creatures came towards him.

"The leader sent us…" one of them spoke.

Erik furrowed his brow. "Is that supposed to make things ok? He and I are not on the best of terms."

"Your father wanted us to give you a message." The second one spoke.

"And what message would that be?"

"He wants your company tonight," The first one spoke again. "At Laramie Drive. He has a proposition for you."

"Sorry, I have a date." Erik answered.

"He requests your company NOW!" The first one grabbed for Erik, and immediately fell to dust at the masked man's feet.

Erik turned to the second one. "Tell _daddy _I'm busy!" he hissed, "Or you will end up like HIM!" He kicked the pile of dust, and the creature ran off.

With a tip of his fedora and a smug smirk, Erik bid him a good night.

* * *

**Graveyard**

"What do I do, daddy?" Christine asked the cold stone slab in front of her. "I really care about him, but sometimes he just scares me." Christine wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the chilly air.

_Can I deal with this? _She wondered. _I should have known having a relationship with Erik wouldn't be easy. If I thought he was dark and moody before, things are ten times worse now since the Leader did… whatever it was he did._

Christine sighed quietly to herself. _Maybe I should have stayed with Raoul. He's safer. Stable. A bit of a jerk at times, but not such a bad guy in the end. Maybe I should have accepted his marriage proposal. Did I make a mistake?_

Christine closed her eyes, imagining waking up with her husband, Raoul De Chagny, lying in bed beside her.

As her thoughts grew more vivid, Raoul's handsome face was replaced with another. A face that looked like death, with beautiful golden eyes that made her feel precious every time they focused on her.

She loved those eyes. Loved seeing how they regarded her with such warmth. The soul within was damaged and tormented, but she could also see the heart beneath it.

It was a little worse for wear, that heart. Torn to pieces many times and barely patched together, but it was no less genuine. She loved that heart in all its patchwork glory.

_Love…_

A gasp escaped Christine's throat.

_I love him… _

She put a hand to her chest. _Daddy, I love him… and it scares me!_

She suddenly felt two arms slip around her body, the wrap of a velvet coat – and the feel of the man still wearing it - warming her shivering form.

"Erik…?" She spoke softly.

"Who else?" He muttered, tugging the front of his coat tighter around the both of them. "I grew concerned when I couldn't find you on campus. I did not realize you preferred to stand in a graveyard and freeze."

Despite his words, he could not hide the concern in his tone. It touched her.

Christine sunk back against him, closing her eyes. "Why did you do that?" she asked. "At the mall?"

"You may not appreciate my new attitude, angel…" he began, "But I will be damned if I allow another man to _touch_ you."

"Erik, it was just-"

"I know. You enjoy hugging people. A little too _much_ for my taste!" His voice then grew softer. "Perhaps one day you will give another man _more _than just a hug."

"No, Erik… I-"

"You may blame my current attitude on the Leader," he continued, interrupting what she was going to say. "But do not be fooled into thinking I never had these thoughts and feelings prior. I will be honest - I do not trust myself to KEEP you. I do not trust that I am worthy enough for you."

"Erik, please don't say that."

"You say I should not refer to myself as a monster. But it is how I have been perceived all my life!" Erik continued, his voice growing shaky.

"I was told no woman could ever love a monster. And so I believed it did not matter how I behaved." His voice then grew determined, "But I have made up my mind now. I will prove to my fa-the Leader that any damage done, CAN be overcome."

He turned her around to face him, still keeping her wrapped within the confines of his coat. He bent his head to meet her eyes. "I am NOT an easy person to love, Christine. I should not have expected you to do so that quickly."

Christine wondered if she should feel guilty for being relieved.

With a deep breath, she rested her forehead against his chest, slipping her fingers through the empty belt loops on his black trousers to prevent him from pulling away. "Erik…. I wasn't breaking up with you. I don't want you to think-"

"I know." He answered. "My harsh words to you were uncalled for."

The warmth suddenly dropped from around her, though Erik did not move away. He shrugged off his duster and slid it around her shoulders, one leather-clad hand coming up to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing her lower lip.

Christine closed her eyes, waiting – no – hoping for a kiss.

Erik lowered his head, his lips barely brushing her ear. "But while _loving_ me may take time…" his voice was low and seductive, his breath warm against her skin. "… you _will_ appreciate my new attitude soon enough."

Christine's stomach fluttered ever so slightly, but he moved away before she could respond. She quickly opened her eyes only to see him walking a few feet ahead of her.

"Come, angel…" He glanced over his shoulder. "We really should get you inside…" He held a gloved hand out to her. It took her a moment to come to her senses and take it.

She could not help but stare up at him as they walked, though he did an admirable job of not noticing, revealing no expression through the mask and keeping his golden eyes dead ahead.

_Erik… one day, when I'm brave enough… I'll tell you…_

**END OF EPISODE 25**


	26. Episode 26: Watched

**_A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir _**

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 26: Watched

By: Elektra

**Laramie Drive**

"Damn it! Damn it Damn it Damn it!" Laura paced back and forth angrily in front of Shay's desk, still fuming about her run-in with Erik a week ago. "I don't get it! First, he ignores me, then he ignores YOU."

The Leader shrugged his shoulders. "My son is a stubborn man," he said.

"Stubborn indeed! I practically THREW myself at him, and he's still pining for that little girl!"

Shay let out a sigh. "Perhaps that is the problem then – his Christine is a challenge. YOU are NOT."

Laura opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. She had a feeling even if she WAS a challenge, Erik _still _wouldn't show any interest in her.

"I thought you did something to his mind. Made him more open … or some such thing." Laura said.

"Oh, yes. It takes time, my dear. I have already completed step one – I have made him act without inhibitions. The rest will come. Slowly, but it will come. Patience, my dear. Patience."

* * *

**Outside the Arts building - Night**

Pale green eyes watched the masked one lead the female throughout campus to the building the two so often disappeared in. HE was told to keep an eye on the two.

_Watch him…_ the Leader had ordered.

HE would do his job.

As quiet as possible, HE skittered from building to building, keeping up with the couple several feet away.

He crawled up the fire escape on the outside wall, up to the roof of the building they had disappeared in.

Waiting.

* * *

**Christine and Meg's dorm room **

Meg jumped up to answer the knock at the door, surprised when she saw who stood there.

"Raoul?" She blinked.

"Hey, Meg…" he answered, his handsome face appearing downcast.

"Um, if you're looking for Christine, she's with Erik."

"I figured as much. I was hoping to speak with _you_ actually."

"Me? Why?"

"Because I get the feeling you're as in-the-dark about this stuff with your mom, Erik, and my brother's business partner as _I_ am."

Meg nodded. "I should call RJ up here. His room is a few floors down." She picked her cell phone up off the desk.

"What does _he _have to do with it?" Raoul asked.

"Oh… geez, mom didn't tell you." Meg sighed. "RJ's dad is part of it too. One minute." She quickly called RJ's cell. "Hey, babe. Want to come up? I wanted to talk to you about that whole Guild thing…" She paused, waiting for a response. "No, RJ. I'm not inviting you for THAT." She frowned, pausing again. "NO, not even AFTER we talk!"

One more pause… and Meg exploded.

"Damn it, RJ, is that all you ever WANT from me? No, you know what? If you're going to be an asshole, forget it, ok? GOODBYE!" She disconnected and stared at the phone, scowling unpleasantly.

Meg quickly wiped away one stray tear, then turned back to Raoul, plastering a smile on her face. "Um, sorry about that… he… he's not coming."

Raoul raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "I'm guessing he wanted to do more then just _talk_."

"I'm surprised he was willing to talk at _all_. It's like he only thinks I'm good for one thing." Meg sighed and sunk down on her bed, then quickly shook her head. "Sorry… not your problem. Don't mind me. Take a seat."

She watched Raoul as he grabbed a chair from the desk and brought it in front of her, sitting down.

"So," Meg began. "What did my mom tell you, exactly? Probably not everything, I'm guessing."

"Something about how this Guild was a secret organization that worked above the law and protected society from dangers the police couldn't." He met Meg's green eyes. "Is this some government or vigilante thing?" he asked.

Meg let out a small laugh. "Not quite, no. But… I don't know if you'd believe what it was they DID do."

Raoul leaned back in the chair, putting his hands behind his head. "Try me. I'm pretty much open to anything right now."

Meg studied him. "Before I do…" she began, her voice growing serious. "Are you trying to do this to get Christine back? Because I think she's pretty much made up her mind here."

Raoul glanced away. "I don't think I'd be very successful if I tried. I already blew my chance with her in high school."

"But you DID reconcile for a bit…" Meg pointed out.

Raoul shook his head. "Maybe, but I think it was too late by then." He frowned. "She had already met _him_." Meg knew whom Raoul was referring to. "That's not to say I don't still care about her," he explained. "I do. That's why I want to make sure this is all _okay_. As for having a _relationship _with her…" he let out a dejected sigh, then glanced at Meg. "Is she happy?"

"More or less, yes. I mean, it's not perfect, but…" she shrugged. "He does love her."

Raoul blinked at that. "He loves her?"

"Yeah. He blurted it all to her out a while back. Seems he's been in lovewith her forever."

"And how does she feel about _him_?" He asked. "Because… you know, if she doesn't feel the same then maybe-"

"Raoul…" Meg interrupted. "You need to move on."

"I _am_." He insisted. "Currently seeing this girl. Well… one date, really. Seemed nice though." He then furrowed his brow. "Mind you, a bit boring. I think she rather have my money than ME."

He glanced back at Meg, "But I won't pursue Christine IF she's happy. IF, Meg."

"She's not _un_happy, if that's what you're getting at. DON'T chase her, Raoul."

Raoul took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "If I ever see a sign that she IS unhappy, then I have every right to break my promise!"

"Ok, ok!" Meg replied. "But… she's NOT unhappy."

"Fine then. I won't interfere." Raoul replied, secretly hoping Erik would screw things up. Meg looked at him warily as if she knew what he was thinking. "Scout's honour, Meg." He added.

Meg raised an eyebrow. "You were a Boy Scout?"

"Not one of my _shining _moments, but yes. Hated the camping trips. Was never big on the outdoorsy crap."

"Pampered little boy," Meg smirked.

"I suppose I was. Still am." He shrugged. "So goes life."

Meg held his gaze. "I'll hold you to your word regarding Christine, Raoul." He rolled his eyes and reluctantly nodded in agreement.

She then took a deep breath, and continued. "As far as this Hunter thing goes, I don't know a whole lot myself, just what Christine told me. And she only knows what Erik told _her_. And I have a feeling my mom knows more then the _both _of them."

She studied Raoul for a moment. "Maybe after I tell you, you can find out some stuff about your brother's business partner. He seems important for some reason."

Raoul nodded. "I know how to get into Phil's personal files on his computer," he smiled sheepishly at Meg's surprise. "I was curious one day," he explained. "Of course, I never bothered to look around much before, but now that he seems inadvertently involved, I don't want _him _to be in any danger here either."

"Fair enough. I'll sneak around my mom's office and find what I can. Then we share. Deal?" She held a hand out.

"Deal." Raoul shook it, then leaned back, and waited for Meg to explain what she knew.

"Okay…" Meg started with a single clap of her hands. "Do you believe in vampires?"

* * *

**Arts building – inside**

Erik sat at the piano, arranging the music before him. "Warm up first." He began.

Christine took a deep breath and went through the scales. When he was satisfied she was sufficiently warmed up, he bid her sing as he played the song he had written specifically for her.

She began the song, then stopped as he left the piano and came up behind her. "No, face forward." He said as she turned to look at him. She did so. "Straighten up now…" She did that as well. "Pull your shoulders back," She felt his hand between her shoulder blades. "Now breathe…" He brought his hand around and pressed his palm gently against her diaphragm. "And sing again…"

She did so, this time with more clarity and tone.

"A little more passion in your voice," he encouraged, "You're out of practice. I did not give you lessons all summer and you are paying for it now. My fault, I will admit."

Christine continued to sing, then felt the warmth of his breath against the nape of her neck.

The passion in her voice began to rise…

"Continue… a bit more emotion." He said as his fingers slid from her diaphragm and brushed against her sides. She did as he asked, finding it easier with every passing moment.

Christine closed her eyes, her spirit taking control of her voice.

When she was finally finished, she heard his applause. Christine spun around to see Erik had walked several feet away. She didn't realize he had been watching her these last few minutes without even touching her.

She smiled at him, "Did I do good?" she asked.

"Very good." He answered before coming back up to her.

Christine let out a yelp as he suddenly slid an arm around her waist and pulled her full against him, dipping his head and bringing his mouth within an inch of hers.

"Who knew you had all that pent-up passion inside you, angel?" Erik's voice was tortuously enticing, his lips barely grazing hers when he had spoken.

He suddenly let go of her. "Lesson over for now. Let's head back."

Christine looked up at him and blinked as she came to her senses. "Oh…yes… of course…" She finally spoke, then took his gloved hand and allowed him to lead her out of the arts building.

* * *

**Outside the Arts Building **

They were leaving the building.

HE quickly climbed down and followed them, keeping to the shadows of the various structures until he saw the two make their way into Residence.

HE knew this place. HE had been here several times.

No, HE had _lived _here.

It was like riding a bike. You never forget.

HE knew exactly where to go and what to do to keep an eye on the ones his Master instructed HIM too.

They slipped inside, and HE quickly followed.

* * *

**Christine and Meg's dorm room **

Raoul simply stared at Meg after the girl had explained all that she knew. He didn't quite know what to make of the information, his mind still registering the fact that not every unsolved murder involved a _human _suspect.

He opened his mouth to speak, but could think of nothing to say and closed it once more. He tried again, but was unsuccessful. Finally, he just threw his hands up.

"Hard to take in, huh?" Meg asked. "I was the same way."

"Am I supposed to believe this?" he asked. "I mean, seriously, Meg? It sounds crazy!"

"Momma confirmed it, Raoul. And unless you're saying my momma is crazy…" she frowned, leaning forward threateningly. Well, as threatening as a 5'2", 110lbs ballerina could be.

Raoul quickly put his hands up defensively. "No no… of course not! But… this is just…"

"Crazy." Meg finished for him.

He let his hands drop to his lap. What could he say, really?

A knock at the door interrupted the uncomfortable silence, "Meggles?"

Meg rolled her eyes. "It's RJ."

"He calls you _Meggles_?" Raoul asked with a snicker

"Oh shut up…" she muttered with a frown, then went to the door and opened it. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to see you." RJ answered simply.

"Uh huh…" Meg replied, not convinced. "And _how much_ of me did you want to see?"

"C'mon, Meg! Don't be like that." RJ began as he stepped in the room, then froze. "Meg?" he began as he glanced at the blonde man sitting on the chair beside Meg's bed. "I didn't know you had a visitor." He frowned.

"She DID call you to talk with us, RJ." Raoul explained. "You weren't interested."

"Well she didn't tell me YOU were here too!" RJ protested.

"You didn't seem overly interested in _anything _I had to say, RJ." Meg frowned. "Raoul and I were talking about your dad and my mom and this Hunter thing." She shrugged. "He was worried about Christine."

RJ scoffed as he glanced at Raoul. "Get over it, Raoul. She prefers doing _freaks_. She's that kind of girl."

Raoul jumped to his feet, hands fisted. "She is NOT _that kind of girl_!"

"Hey, don't feel bad! I hear Grandma Giry is still available!" RJ snickered.

Raoul would have let a fist fly if not for the fact Meg had stepped between them. "STOP IT! No testosterone show here!" she pressed a hand against each man's chest, separating them. She first glanced at RJ. "For your information, Chrissy cares about Erik. And she would slap you silly if she heard you call him a freak." She then glanced at Raoul. "And I think you and I should probably finish our conversation another day."

Meg reached for RJ's hand, then for Raoul's. "Come on, boys. This room isn't big enough for your machismo." She led them both out the door and into the hall. "Get going!"

RJ looked back at Meg, "Come to my room?"

"In a bit." she agreed, if only to get him to leave her alone for the moment. RJ gave her a kiss on the cheek, then headed off.

"I don't trust him." Raoul muttered.

Meg turned to find that she was still holding his hand and quickly let go. "He's all I've got."

"I'm not talking about your crappy taste in men," Raoul began. Meg frowned, but Raoul paid no heed as he continued, "I'm talking about what we're trying to do here – finding out more about the Guild. I don't trust him to keep it a secret. Don't tell him _anything_."

Meg shrugged. "Hey, if RJ doesn't care enough to talk about it, he doesn't deserve to know what we're planning."

"Good." Raoul replied. "Now... my brother went out of town on business the other day, but he's due back later tonight. Hopefully I can check out his computer before he returns and see what I can dig up." He grabbed his cell from his pocket. "Can I have your phone number? I'll call you."

Meg quickly headed into her room and grabbed her own cell. "And I'll take yours too."

They added each other's numbers to their phones and parted ways.

With a reluctant sigh, Meg headed downstairs to RJ's room.

* * *

**Erik's Room – half-an-hour later**

Christine had headed back to Residence, in need of a shower and some sleep. Erik had retired to his room for the night, recording another song on his computer to be sent out to the radio stations. 

Erik… do you belong here?

Erik stopped what he was doing, knowing that voice could only belong to one person. "What do you want?" he hissed angrily.

_Answer my question - do you belong with HER? _

"I do not belong WITHOUT her!" Erik answered. "And I would quite appreciate it if you would STOP having conversations with me in my head!"

_Well, Erik, since you refused to meet with me when my people came to claim you, I have no other way to get in contact with you. _

"Try my cell. Less invasive! Would you like the number?"

_You CAN have a place of your own, with me. _

"I decline your offer, Shay. I am quite happy here."

_Even though you know about your true nature, you are still trying to deny it… _

"Well, if denying it gets me Christine, then so be it. I will gladly deny it for the rest of my years."

_You really are a stubborn man!_ Came the reply. Then his presence was gone.

… only to be replaced by something else Erik knew was lurking far too close for comfort.

* * *

**Residence **

Christine showered herself in the washroom she shared with three other girls – Meg, Jammes, and Sorelli – their dorm rooms neighbouring one another, the bathroom in between.

As she wrapped one towel around her and used another to dry her hair, Christine looked up at the ceiling fixture. Why was the light flickering so much? The last thing she needed was to be left blind in the bathroom.

"Oh no…" Christine muttered as Residence was suddenly plunged into darkness. "Don't tell me the power just went out!"

"It did," came a male voice in reply.

"Erik!" Christine screeched.

"Yes. I am here…"

"WHERE, exactly?"

"Right behind you…"

Christine spun around and stormed forward in the darkness, ready to blast him for spying on her when after only two steps, she ran into a living, breathing wall.

Erik's hands grasped her hips, preventing Christine from falling backwards and possibly losing her rather thin towel. "I would suggest you get dressed… though I rather like what you're wearing right now." He spoke.

"Wh… what were you doing lurking in here?" she asked, noticeably flustered.

"Nothing as vulgar as you are thinking." He answered as he ran a finger down her spine, noting the way her breath caught. "Though I imagine watching you shower would have been rather… _uplifting_."

Erik grazed graceful hands up and down her arms, pressing his masked face against her neck. "You have wonderfully soft skin, Christine…" he breathed. "How I love touching you." He suddenly let go of her, leaving Christine attempting to calm her pulse. "But… alas… my current attitude makes you far too uncomfortable for that."

He was tormenting her on purpose. She knew it.

"There is actually a reason for my presence here." Erik continued, his tone all business now. "I sensed something nearby and needed to investigate. I suggest you head back to your room and allow me to take care of things."

Christine blinked, finding herself a little flushed. She was quite sure he could see it in the dark. "Uh… right…" She quickly turned around and began to blindly reach for the door.

"Turn left, go straight," he offered, his night-sight far better then hers. She finally found what she was looking for and headed back into her room. Erik followed her out, waiting.

"I'm not going to change with you standing there. I know you can see me!" Christine frowned, hands on hips.

The masked man released a cool chuckle, then slipped into the hallway and slid into a corner – not as if any of the college girls running around fretfully could see him in the darkness.

There was something about this power outage that bothered him. The weather was fine, no high winds, or rain. It was as if the power had purposely been cut.

Erik's thoughts were interrupted as he heard Christine scream from her room. He practically broke the door down to get to her.

In the moonlight coming through her open window, he could see someone pinning her against the wall. _Him again!_ Erik muttered, noticing that Bobby the pervert had once again returned to Ravelle.

Christine still only had on her towel and was pounding his head with her hairbrush, frantically yelling at him. She gave Bobby a swift knee to the groin, causing him to fall to his knees with a cry. "DON'T EVER sneak into my room _again_!" she shouted.

Well, at least she didn't need _Erik's_ help at the moment.

"Ahhh, it looks like the Leader sent us one of his mindless servants. How lovely." Erik commented.

Before Erik could attack him, however, Bobby leapt up and shoved Christine across the room before rushing out the window.

Erik caught the petite girl quickly, the momentum sending both of them crashing to the floor, Christine landing atop him. "Ok, if he's so mindless, why did he _grope _me?" she demanded.

"Because you are rather pleasant to grope," Erik replied, then suddenly rolled them both over, pinning her beneath him as he rested his head upon her shoulder. "Do you suppose I should go after him?" He asked, seemingly content with his current position.

"YES, Erik!" Christine began. "He's going to get away!" She pushed at his shoulders ineffectively.

He let out a quiet sigh and closed his eyes. "But… I would much rather stay here. You're far more pleasant company. And so very _comfortable_ too…"

"I swear to god, Erik!" Christine huffed. "All I have to do is raise my knee and _Cam _will be singing soprano!"

Erik quickly pushed himself into a sitting position, preventing Christine from following through on her threat. "I'm surprised, angel! Do you really want to damage something you will have use for in the future?" He smirked triumphantly when he saw Christine turn a shade of red he had never seen before.

"No matter," he began suddenly, "I suppose you are right. I must get back to business." He seemed disappointed. "Give Antoinette a call. Tell her there is an intruder I need to deal with. I'll explain it all to her later. Until then, she should call 911 and get an ambulance here."

He furrowed his brow at the girl. "Well now, what are you waiting for?"

Christine clutched the front of his coat and pulled herself into a sitting position, "Get OFF me!"

Erik glanced down and saw he was currently sitting on her legs. He met her eyes, "Well now," he began, his hands slipping up over her toweled back to cup her shoulders. "It appears I have you at a disadvantage,"

Christine let out a startled whimper as he suddenly captured her mouth with his… though against her better judgment, she found herself relaxing against him, responding enthusiastically to his attention.

"Hmmm…" Erik slowly pulled away, "It seems my new attitude does not bother you as much as you claim." He jumped to his feet and made his way to the opened window. "Call Antoinette while I deal with your intruder. I will be back later."

Without waiting for acknowledgement, Erik headed out in pursuit.

* * *

**Residence Rooftop **

Once Erik reached the rooftop, he saw his quarry. The boy seemed confused as he stared over the edge of the roof. He had obviously failed to formulate a plan of escape while Erik had been pleasantly distracted.

Erik quickly tackled Bobby from behind, knocking the boy to the ground before bending his head unnaturally and digging a knee into his back. He heard the boy cry out, much to his satisfaction, and would have ripped his head right off his shoulders if he didn't need answers at the moment.

"Care to tell me why you were trying to attack Christine in her room? Were you going to take her somewhere, or was it just an attempt to cop a feel?"

Bobby twisted his head slightly, showing Erik his soulless eyes, "I was sent to watch you."

"Watch me?" Erik hissed. "I see the Leader is keeping good on his promise. That still does not give you permission to TOUCH my woman!"

"Your daddy is waiting for you!"

"You are not answering my question!" Erik dug the knee in deeper and yanked hard on Bobby's hair. The boy whimpered but made no attempt to fight back.

_What a waste…_Erik thought. He had been itching for some violence.

"He wants to make you an offer." Bobby's voice sounded unemotional and robotic, as if simply repeating what he was told.

"I already rejected his offer." Erik reached into his duster. "Tell me, boy… if I let you go, will you continue spying on us?" he hissed angrily.

"It is what I was trained to do…" Bobby answered.

"That is a shame then. Would you like to see what _I_ was trained to do?"

Before he could answer, Bobby found Erik's rope tight around his neck.

* * *

**Outside Residence – Ten minutes later**

Antoinette Giry was called to the scene immediately, her eyes looking over the pale form on the ground beside the newly arrived ambulance. The boy was currently being tended to by the EMTs.

She looked up at the roof to see a shadowy form, long coat flapping out behind him, peering carefully over the edge.

_Erik… what have you done? _Giry worried. Her attention then went back to the unmoving Bobby.

She heard the EMTs speaking, saying how lucky the boy was to be unconscious before he fell. That his body was limp enough that the large evergreen outside Residence broke his fall and saved the boy from certain death.

There was no sign of him waking up soon, but he was alive. He would be rushed to a nearby hospital, his parents would be contacted, and care would be given.

Giry glanced back up to the roof, but the shadowy figure was gone.

* * *

**Christine's dorm room **

When Erik returned to Christine's dorm, he saw the girl had fallen asleep on her bed, dressed in her pajamas. He was quite sure she had attempted to stay awake to find out what was going on… but he had taken his time returning. He had, in fact, taken a short lurk around the air ducts, trying to see if anything else was amiss.

Taking a deep breath, Erik glanced around the room, then opened the door a crack and peaked down the hall before closing it again, relieved to find that Little Giry was no where in sight.

Erik crouched beside the bed, watching Christine's face as she slept. For all his earlier taunting, his heart truly did ache for her.

He shrugged off his duster and placed it atop her, tucking it around her carefully, intent on keeping the girl warm. He then slid on the bed and gathered her little form protectively against him.

_I love you so very much, angel… _Erik thought as he brushed his lips lightly against her forehead, his fingers gently caressing her cheek. _No words could ever do these feelings justice. _He closed his eyes and buried his face atop her head, inhaling the scent of her freshly washed hair, still slightly damp. _And I would die before I let anyone hurt you._

He would stay here until first light, then would disappear into the air-ducts. He did not want Christine to wake up and grow uneasy with his presence.

Of all the things he had missed prior to his change, it was this. There were two nights when she had been content sleeping in the same bed as him, trusting that he would not make any uncomfortable overtures towards her.

But now…

Now Erik wondered if he could _resist_.

**END OF EPISODE 26**


	27. Episode 27: Masquerade

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir. **_

**_Another lighter episode to break up the angst. Enjoy!_**

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

**Episode 27: Masquerade**

By: Elektra

**Dean Giry's Office**

Giry stared at the masked man leaning casually against the wall of her office. "You wanted to see me, Antoinette?" He asked.

"Yes. What happened with Bobby?"

"I believe the boy was under the Leader's control. He was spying on me. I did not appreciate it." Erik replied.

"I am not talking about that. I am talking about how you nearly KILLED the boy!" Giry protested.

"But he is NOT dead, is he, Antoinette? My calculations were correct. The tree broke his fall, and he is merely injured."

"_Merely _injured?" she repeated. "He broke a leg and an arm, and has a severe concussion. As if that were not enough, he has a bruised trachea from your rope!"

"Well, I had to make sure he was unconscious or the boy would have been flailing all the way down. THAT would have killed him!" Erik pointed out.

Giry pursed her lips. "His parents have not heard from him in several months, and now to find him like this! Do you know how bad this looks for the school?"

"That is not MY problem, Antoinette. I am not the one who took over his mind."

Giry threw her hands up. What could she say to him?

"Is there anything else you wish to speak to me about?" he asked impatiently.

"There is plenty, but I gather you don't care what I have to say about the latest goings-on in your life."

"And you are right." He replied.

With a polite nod of his head, Erik slipped back into the air-ducts and disappeared.

* * *

**Christine and Meg's Dorm room – twenty minutes later**

Christine sat at her desk, huddled over the textbook in front of her. She frowned and furrowed her brow as she puzzled over the equation swimming before her eyes. Why had she taken Math 204 again?

_Because you need to have a backup plan…_ her father's voice reminded her. He had been very supportive with her chosen career, as his own love of theater and music had led him to become a professional violinist. But he had urged her not to make the same mistake HE had when he was younger.

Her father had failed to learn the basic arts and sciences along with performing arts when he'd had the chance. As a result, he had more often than not found himself tight for money and in between jobs.

With a sigh, Christine leaned back in her chair and stretched out her cramped muscles. She grabbed a hair elastic and tied her curly locks back tightly, then leaned over her book once more, ignoring the loose dark strands that fell forward.

Her homework remained as daunting as ever.

So caught up in her current pursuit, she had not noticed anyone else enter the room until she felt cool lips brush against the back of her neck.

"ERIK!" she gasped as papers and pencils went flying – at least, she _hoped _the man who had just kissed her was Erik. Otherwise, someone would be very sorry.

Christine quickly swore at herself for her clumsiness then fell to her knees to clean up the mess.

"Well now, I did not know you would be THAT excited to see me…" came Erik's voice.

"I'm sorry…" she replied as she continued picking up after herself. "Was stuck on a math question. Didn't realize you'd come in…or… dropped down," she added, knowing he usually came in from the air ducts, not the door.

"Ahhh… math." He replied, a hint of interest in his voice. Christine was only vaguely aware of pen scratching against paper as Erik wrote something down. "Was this the question you were preoccupied with?" he asked as he knelt in front of her and slipped the paper beneath her nose.

Christine dropped what was in her hands and grabbed it. "YES!" she cried out happily as she saw a very detailed formula written out step-by-step for her. "Thank you so much! I've been staring at that stupid thing for the last twenty minutes!" She eagerly threw her arms around the man before her, and he responded in kind.

"Perhaps I should tutor you in Mathematics as well, if this is how excited you get about it…"

"I HATE math. I'm only taking it to be well-rounded with my education…" she replied.

As she continued hugging him, Christine's nose picked up a strange scent. "Are you wearing cologne?" She asked as she closed her eyes and pressed her face against his neck. He smelled earthy and natural. And very pleasant.

"Not cologne, but a free sample of body spray I was given when I went shopping this morning. Do you like it?" Erik asked.

"Mmm-hmm…" Christine muttered against his neck. She was quite sure she could stay like this for hours. It was only after a few moments that Christine registered what Erik had just told her. "Wait… did you say you went _shopping_? On your _own_? In a public _mall_?" She lifted her head to meet his amber eyes.

True, he had gone to the mall with her once before, but she never imagined him going on a regular basis. She knew he did most of his shopping over the Internet and had his purchases sent to a P.O. box, being the private recluse that he was.

"I thought I could use some new clothes…" he answered.

Christine pulled back and allowed her eyes to wander over his current outfit, something she hadn't paid much attention to earlier having being too caught up in her homework when he entered the room.

Erik's new shirt consisted of black strips of fabric that crisscrossed his torso with dark netting placed in the spaces the fabric didn't cover, thus allowing a slight glimpse of pale skin beneath it. This was followed by a pair of form-fitting black leather pants she had never seen him wear before.

"Um… _wow_…" She leaned back on her hands, unable to take her eyes from him.

She mused that if her parents were still alive, this would definitely not be the type of man she would bring home. Not that Erik ever HAD been the type of man she'd bring home. Her parents would have, no doubt, locked her up and certified her insane.

"There was a store I saw when I took you there last time that interested me. I made note of it and decided I would go back to look around." Erik spoke, snapping Christine out of her thoughts.

Erik's tone then grew somewhat dark. "And once they salesladies saw I was willing to spend money, they stopped gawking at my mask and became overly helpful. No doubt wanting to get their fair share of the commission."

"How much did you buy?" Christine asked. She would not complain if he bought more clothing such as that which he wore now. It looked… _very _good.

"Another top, another pair of pants. And one more pair of boots. These ones are getting worn." He indicated the black leather boots that covered his leg from toe to knee, tugging distastefully on the cracked straps.

Erik then met her eyes and quirked an unseen eyebrow. "I was thinking of taking _Cam _public and needed something suitable."

Christine blinked at that. "Taking _Cam_ public?" she asked. He nodded, and Christine immediately jumped to her feet. "Are you CRAZY?" she sputtered.

Erik stood up gracefully. "You disapprove?"

"You KNOW I disapprove!" She stomped a foot angrily. "I already TOLD you that when I first heard you on the radio!"

"Ah yes. I remember that conversation…"

"Whatever happened to _I do not have plans to be paraded about in public_," she imitated his voice as she quoted his earlier comments on the subject.

Erik's lips twitched into a slight smirk. "I am only jok-"

"You might as well hold up a big neon sign saying _Here I am! Come torment me!_" she answered, far too intent on her tirade to notice he was trying to speak.

"Christine…" Erik tried again, but she would not be stopped.

"NO! Listen to me! It's fine to go out in public, to go shopping or to a restaurant, or the opera. I'm all FOR that, Erik! Heck, I'd _love _it if we went on a real date somewhere. Dancing or dinner… or… or _something_. But as for you becoming a public figure…"

Erik attempted to speak once more. "Angel… I am not ser-"

"To open yourself up to scrutiny like that…" Christine continued, "YES, I disapprove! People will want to know what you're hiding! And once they find out, they'll _condemn _you for it! They won't be able to see you the way _I_ do, they won't-"

Her rant was silenced by Erik's mouth. Christine's words had touched him deeply, though her worry had been for naught - as he had been trying to tell her for the last few minutes.

"I was _jesting_, Christine." Erik replied when he finally broke the kiss. "I did not mean to upset you." He slid his arms around her waist and lifted her off her feet into an all-encompassing hug. He then smirked. "Though I must admit, you are rather attractive when you are on a tirade…"

"Oh…" Christine responded, dumbstruck. "I… I thought… maybe… with this new attitude, you were… serious. I mean… not that I want you to hide forever or anything," she stumbled over her words, "But… I… I didn't want you to make yourself a target either."

He chuckled. "I long ago decided that _Cam's _identity will always remain a mystery. _Unreserved_ I now may be, but _foolish_ I am not," he replied.

"However…" Erik continued, still holding her as if she weighed nothing. "I actually came in here to get your opinion. It is enough I am forced to wear a mask. I do not wish to look absurd in my clothes as well."

"Is the other stuff similar to what you're wearing now?" Christine asked. He nodded, "Then I approve." She pressed her forehead against his, stroking a shoulder-length lock of his ebony hair. "_Completely…_"

* * *

**De Chagny Residence – Raoul's bedroom**

Raoul sat on his bed and hunched over the copies he had made from the files in his brother's safe. He had returned the originals as soon as he could, not wanting his brother to know he had been sneaking around his study.

The younger De Chagny had also managed to bring up several useful correspondences between Philip and his business partner, Shay on his brother's computer. It was all quite a fascinating read.

Shay had asked Philip to keep an eye on Christine. Raoul noted these emails had been written at the time _he _had been dating Christine. Why had Shay been so interested in Raoul's personal life?

Unless…

Raoul frowned. If Shay had dealings with Erik, perhaps he was trying to get information by keeping an eye on Christine, who at the time was being tutored by the man in question.

Granted, there was no sign Shay even knew Erik was part of the Hunter's Guild… but Raoul wondered if perhaps he DID know and simply saw no need to mention it to Philip, who probably didn't even realize, to this day, that such an organization even existed.

The more information Raoul found out, the more questions were raised. Surely there was nothing special about the reclusive masked man. He was just one of many Hunters.

So why had Shay taken such a personal interest in any who associated with Erik?

* * *

**Student Lounge – That evening**

"Chrissy, we need to talk." Jammes said as she and Sorelli burst into the student lounge, immediately making a beeline for the brunette currently eating her supper beside Meg."I have a man for you!"

Christine almost choked on her macaroni and cheese.

"Oh now, don't thank me." Jammes continued, completely unaware of the uncomfortable look on Christine's face. "He's my cousin! He's coming into town next weekend. He's single, incredibly good-looking, and would love to find himself a girl."

"Jammes?" Meg spoke up. "If he's from out of town, how does he expect to have a relationship with someone here?" she then raised an eyebrow, "Unless, of course, he's only interested in a girl for the _weekend_ he's in town…"

Jammes brushed away Meg's concern. "Like it matters? Christine has been man-less for almost a year now."

"I have _not_!" Christine protested, then quickly clamped her mouth shut. _Oops…_

Jammes studied the girl before her. "You have someone?" she asked curiously.

"Um… I… he… we're…" Christine stumbled over her words.

"Yes. She does." Meg answered on her friend's behalf. "He's not a student though."

Sorelli leaned forward, suspiciously studying Christine. "Tell us about this mystery man then…"

"Well," Meg answered when she saw Christine was not forthcoming. "He's got this incredible singing voice that almost rivals that new guy on the radio," Meg winked at her friend, and Christine tried not to choke on her Kraft Dinner again. "And as for looks - he's pretty tall, very pale, and has a nice body," she explained.

"Meg!" Christine gasped.

"What? Am I lying?" Meg asked. Christine could not dispute Meg's words.

"Ok…" Sorelli began, arms crossed. "You say he's not a student here. Fine. So why hasn't he come to visit at least?"

"He has!" Christine protested, "He's just… very private. Doesn't make a big show of it, you know."

"And how did you meet?" Sorelli continued. Christine suddenly felt as if she was being interrogated.

"He… was – is - my vocal coach…" she blushed.

"One of the teachers!" Jammes squealed.

"NO!" Christine insisted. "He's _not _one of the teachers! _Really_, Jammes." She looked appalled that the girl would even think she'd date one of her professors. "He doesn't work here."

"Fine…" Sorelli continued. "Why have you kept him a secret then?"

"He's an older man." Meg answered for her friend. "By… what, eleven years, Chrissy?" Christine nodded. "She was worried people would think badly of him." Meg continued. "You know, think he was taking advantage of a college girl." Christine nodded again, relieved that Meg's explanation was making perfect sense, even though it wasn't entirely true.

"Uh huh… and his name?" Sorelli asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Erik." Christine answered quietly, then glanced up at the air-ducts, wondering if he was lurking around… and if he'd be upset at her for telling.

"I swear, Chrissy! If you and Meg are just making up a story to avoid my cousin…" Jammes wasn't able to finish what she was saying when Christine's phone rang.

She looked at the caller ID, then glanced up to the air-ducts once more and quickly answered. "Erik?"

"Hello, angel," came Erik's voice, "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation."

"Oh! Erik, I-"

"No need to worry," he answered. "I am not upset that you mentioned me. It is better than that girl's alternative at least."

Christine was relieved, "Oh thank goodness!"

"It would be unfair to ask you to lie about us." Erik said, then his voice grew dark. "Especially when nosy girls try to set you up with their relatives."

"Give me that!" Sorelli rudely grabbed the phone from Christine. "Who is this?"

"Considering I was talking to _Christine_, I should ask who YOU are," came Erik's silky reply.

Sorelli paused for a moment. This man had the most incredible speaking voice she had ever heard. "Are you... Christine's boyfriend?" she asked with a little less arrogance.

Erik was silent for a moment. _Boyfriend_? He rather liked being referred to in that way. "I am," he answered.

"How come we haven't met you?" she accused.

"I am a very private man." Erik answered. "Now may I speak to Christine again?"

Sorelli handed the phone back to Christine, convinced the girl was not making up stories, "Is he as sexy as he sounds?" she asked.

"I just want to remind you that we have a lesson tonight." Erik replied before Christine could respond to Sorelli.

"I'll be there," Christine replied.

Sorelli spoke up again, "Tell him to come to the Annual Halloween Masquerade on Friday night." She narrowed her eyes. "I want to meet him."

Christine frowned. "Why does this matter so much to you, Sorelli?"

"It is ok, angel," came Erik's voice on the other line. "It is the one time of the year my mask will be considered _normal_. If it will stop them from hounding you, I am willing to show up in public."

"OH! Thank you so much!" she squealed happily. "If you were here, I'd give you a hug!"

She heard a low chuckle. "I am going to be in a crowded college auditorium, of all things. I despise crowds more than I despise going out in public. I demand at least a _kiss _for my trouble." Erik replied. "_French_, preferably…"

Christine's blush did not go unnoticed by the girls in front of her.

* * *

**Dean Giry's office – the next day**

Meg slowly slid into her mother's office, closing the door quietly behind her. The ballet teacher had since left to tend to school business, allowing Meg the chance to pick the lock with a hairpin and sneak in.

She went over to the computer and clicked on the email icon. It asked for a password. After several tries, she attempted to use her full name, Megan, as her mother sometimes called her - when she was angry.

She let out a quiet cheer when the password was accepted, though it was soon replaced with guilt when she realized how touched she was that her mother used her name as a password.

"I'm sorry, Momma…" Meg whispered to the empty office, "But I need to know what you're hiding. I'm worried about you…"

Meg went through the inbox, careful not to click on any new messages, lest her mother wonder why they were marked as 'read'. She continued her search to the saved messages folder and read her mother's various correspondences, nearly gagging when she came across some very private emails from Richard Firmin.

She never thought her mother, so very uptight and rigid, could possibly be capable of half of the things Firmin mentioned. It was information Meg really didn't want to know.

She quickly skimmed past anything sent from Mr. Firmin's email and honed in on the messages sent from the Guild, saving them to the floppy disk she had brought with her.

A few messages made a passing reference to the Guild's _Executioner_ and various assignments he had completed, but no name had been revealed. Meg thought he sounded rather frightening, and hoped never to have the misfortune of meeting him. According to an email to one Gus Leroux, even her _mother _was worried about the man.

Once Meg gathered what information she could, she logged out of the computer and left everything as she had found it, then headed over to the filing cabinet at the back of the room – only to find it was locked and beyond jimmying open.

Meg glanced up at the clock on the wall and realized her mother would be back any minute.

Without hesitation, Meg immediately headed out of the office and locked the door behind her.

* * *

**Friday night**

Christine stood impatiently in the corner of the auditorium, looking around for a certain masked man who may or may not show up.

She was currently wearing a white silken dress with large feathered angel wings attached to the back, long white gloves, and a halo around her head. She checked her watch and noted that the party had started over two hours ago and she had not seen one sign of her eccentric boyfriend.

The ghost of Ravelle, however, seemed to be in full swing. Already several students had claimed to see death's face floating about the darkened corners of the auditorium. Christine couldn't help but groan inwardly every time she heard a new story.

Sorelli and Jammes, unaware of whom the ghost really was, had grown restless with Erik's tardiness. They had since found themselves two boys to latch onto, glancing over at Christine every now and then expectantly.

"Erik, where are you…" Christine muttered quietly as she nervously wrung her hands.

"Behind you…"

Christine spun around only to see Erik dressed as none other than _Zorro_, with alterations to the mask that allowed it to cover more of his face than Zorro's costume usually did.

"Forgive my lateness," Erik began, "But this being Halloween, you will forgive a ghost his desire to _haunt_ for a while." He smirked.

"Chrissy!" hollered Meg's voice from a few feet away. "I was looking everywhere for you. I didn't know you'd become a wallflower,"

Erik turned around with a swoosh of his cape and tipped his hat politely, "Little Giry."

"Erik!" Meg replied, a little startled as she came upon them. He had blended into the shadows so well that she had not seen him until he moved.

"Lovely costume." Erik commented, noting Meg was currently dressed as _Elvira_.

"You don't look so bad yourself! Good choice." Meg gestured to the mask, of which only she, Erik and Christine knew the significance of - although Meg had yet to see what lay beneath it.

Erik glanced over at the two girls who had accompanied Meg and were now studying him intently. "And you are?"

"… very impressed!" Sorelli replied as she eyed Erik with far more than a passing interest.

He reached behind him to take Christine's hand. "Are you not going to introduce us?" he asked.

"Huh?" Christine was startled by the question, not appreciating the way Sorelli was ogling him. "OH!" Christine pointed to the girls beside Meg – one dressed as a prostitute, the other as Cat Woman. "Erik, these two are my dorm mates, Sorelli and Jammes." She slid an arm possessively around his waist – a gesture that did not go unnoticed by him. It made the masked man smile.

"The reclusive boyfriend!" Sorelli said as she slowly walked around him. Christine could see Erik's brow furrow beneath the material of his mask.

"Am I being inspected?" he asked with a slight frown. "I am not a piece of meat, if you do not mind." He then glanced at Christine. "Unless, of course, Christine decides to use me in such a way,"

Christine felt her face grow hot.

Jammes stepped forward and looked up at him. "Wow... you're, like, super tall!" she exclaimed. "Chrissy told us you were her vocal coach."

"I am, but one cannot make a living on such things." he answered. "I am actually an architect by trade."

"Do _all_ architects work out?" Sorelli asked as she rejoined Jammes side and took note of Erik's figure. It was not the type of build she'd expected for someone who spent most of the day hunched over a drafting table.

"I do a lot of physical work as well," he answered. "Why just over the summer, I helped Little Giry's mother with some home improvements, did I not?" he asked as he glanced over at Meg.

"Oh, yeah!" Meg turned to Sorelli and Jammes. "He built this amazing deck in our backyard."

"It was because Christine knew of my day job that she referred me to the Girys." Erik explained.

Christine and Meg both glanced up at him. It wasn't exactly the truth, but it was a good enough explanation. Sorelli and Jammes didn't need to know any more details.

Sorelli grew even more curious. "So how long have you two been all touch-feely then?"

"Since the aforementioned summer," Erik offered. "Christine was staying with the Girys, and since I was there quite often…" he purposely left out the fact he was _also _staying there at the time. "…we were able to see each other outside our lessons. It did not take long for use to realize we favoured one another in a way that went beyond tutor and student."

He did not think it was important these girls knew his feelings for his _student_ had started long before. Such private details were not for discussion.

Erik suddenly turned his full attention to Christine. "Shall we dance?" he asked, and led her out on the dance floor before she could answer.

"You dance?" Christine asked as they found a spot.

"No. Not really. But it was a good reason to excuse ourselves from your dorm mates before they got too curious, no?" he asked. "Besides, it does not look overly difficult…" he simply followed the swaying of those around him as a slow song started up. He smirked ever so slightly, recognizing the song as _Cam's_ new single.

More students headed out to the dance floor with their significant others, and soon enough, it was fairly crowded.

Too crowded for Erik's liking.

He began feeling pressed in on either side. Christine furrowed her brow as the ear resting against his chest picked up his uneven breathing and quickened heart beat.

"Erik?" she began.

Erik suddenly broke away from her and rushed out of the auditorium. Christine quickly followed.

* * *

"Erik?" Christine called out as she entered the empty hallway.

She walked up and down several rows of lockers before she found the man she was looking for, sitting on the floor, head pressed against his hands, his hat on the ground beside him.

Christine ran to him immediately and fell to her knees. "What is it? What's wrong?" she asked worriedly as she placed a hand on his shoulder.

He said nothing as he pulled Christine into his lap, clutching her desperately against him. He pressed his masked face against her neck, breathing slowly, deeply, as if she were his lifeline.

"Too many…" he whispered finally. "Too many people… felt them… pushing into me… tugging… on the back of my mask. It… could have fallen off… they… they would have seen... seen the _freak_… seen the ... the _monster_..."

Christine knew it was enough the students screamed upon seeing the ghost of Ravelle. To find that he was really a man would have led to far worse than a few screams.

Christine hugged him instead. "Will you be ok?" she asked softly. "I didn't realize… I should have known there would've been too many people for you." She rested her head against his, still sitting in his lap. "I'm sorry, Erik."

"Not your fault, angel…" he replied as he tightened his arms around her. "I truly thought I could join you tonight, being that I have slowly begun venturing out in public lately."

She shook her head. "But the mall has lots of space to walk around in. A dance… well… those get a lot more crowded."

"I really should have handled myself better," he said. "I cannot stay hidden forever. Not when I have _you _to think of now." He played with a lock of her hair, "How would it look to have you going to parties and such without your _boyfriend_?" He asked. "No doubt you will have more girls attempting to set you up with their cousins."

"Not too big on parties anyway." She smiled, then slid her hands over his shoulders, massaging gently to ease the tension she felt in his body. Erik released a soft sigh as he rested his forehead against her collarbone to allow her better access.

Christine's fingers slid up his neck, beneath the back of his mask, pressing against the tightened muscles she felt there. She knew what to do from her own experiences with tight muscles, as her and Meg had often had to work out each other's kinks after long rehearsals.

She pressed her fingers hard against the knots, releasing when she felt them ease. She kneaded the muscles as best she could, though she was quite aware her ministrations would have been more effective if she were behind him.

Erik, however, didn't seem willing to remove his hands from her waist any time soon.

"Christine… I love you…" he muttered almost inaudibly.

Christine's fingers faltered for a moment, then she swallowed nervously. "Erik?" she began quietly.

"Yes, beloved?"

She took a deep breath, bit her lip, and found her courage. "I… I lo-"

"CHRISSY!" A voice echoed down the hall, interrupting her words.

Erik's head shot up, causing Christine to jerk her hands away as he quickly tugged his mask back into place. It had slipped halfway off while Christine was tending to him.

Meg, Sorelli, and Jammes came around the corner only to see Erik and Christine in their cozy position.

"See, I told you that you worried for nothing…" Sorelli scoffed. "She was busy making out with her man!"

Erik gently slid Christine off his lap and jumped gracefully to his feet, then offered Christine a hand. She took his offer and he assisted her up, Sorelli and Jammes exchanging surprised looks in response to his manners – something very few college boys had.

"You will have to forgive me for leaving so abruptly, ladies." He began, his cool demeanour suddenly returning. "But, unfortunately, I must be off. It was a pleasure to meet you, Jammes. Sorelli." He took each girl's hand in turn, placing a gentlemanly kiss atop them, then turned back to Christine.

The kiss he gave her was not very gentlemanly at all. It was, in fact, the kiss he told her she would owe him if he showed up at the Halloween masquerade. Christine was left with a flushed face and quickened pulse, and the three girls who had witnessed the scene seemed almost as flushed as _her_.

Erik turned and grabbed his hat from the floor, not noticing the way Sorelli and Jammes took the opportunity to appreciatively study his backside. "Good night, ladies. I will leave Christine to enjoy the rest of her evening with you."

Erik gave Christine one last quick kiss on the cheek, then turned and headed out of the building.

Once he was gone, Sorelli looked over to Jammes, eyebrow raised. "Somehow, I don't think Chrissy is going to be interested in meeting your cousin …"

**END OF EPISODE 27**


	28. Episode 28: Hiding

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir. Especially for the Meg/Raoul bits! **_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 28: Hiding

By: Elektra

Elsewhere

_The masked man watched the fight before him. It was a large-scale brawl made up of Hunters and … the others. _

"This is a great show, do you not agree?" came a voice to his left. He looked to see his Father at his side, enjoying the carnage the two had set forth.

"They are a pitiful, these Hunters," the Masked one began. "They are missing their best man! How could they possibly hope to stop us?" He clicked his tongue. "Such a waste of energy."

One of the Hunters attempted to lunge at him – a female he once knew as Antoinette Giry. He easily strangled her with his rope, the catgut now stained dark red.

They hated him, these humans, because he was different. He wondered how they felt now that the **freak** was getting his revenge.

As the masked one made his way through the chaos, he heard something a few feet away.

An odd sound. Was someone singing?

He walked towards the sound until he found whom it belonged to. Before him stood the one he had wanted to protect, kneeling in a pool of blood as she sang a requiem for a friend.

The girl looked up at him. Her chocolate hair stained with the blood of the girl she cradled in her arms. She lay the body down gently and stood before him, her eyes filled with tears. "Why?" She asked. "I thought you **loved **me!

"You…" he began slowly, a sudden realization coming to him, "You are not supposed to be here!"

"I'm always here," she replied. "I'm supposed to be with YOU!"

He walked towards her as if in a trance and fell to his knees. "Angel?"

She looked down at him, blue eyes dimming as her body slowly faded away. "Erik…" her voice was quiet, full of longing and sadness as tears poured forth from her eyes.

"Don't let him do this to you…" she spoke. "You have your own mind! Don't let him inside!" She was gone then, disappearing into nothing.

The masked figure turned to the left, looking at something else entirely now. "Get out!" Erik ordered no one in particular. "Get out. NOW!"

The Leader shot up in his chair with a gasp. He closed his eyes a moment and took several deep breaths, then put a hand to his temple. "Damn it!" he hissed. "How the hell did he _do_ that!"

There was a knock at the door. Shay looked up to see Laura coming in. "You look like hell," she muttered as she took in his disheveled appearance.

The Leader frowned. "I had a bad experience attempting to contact my son! What do you want, Laura?"

"You know what I want. What I've _always _wanted!" She said.

Shay took a deep breath. "That girl's influence on him is more powerful then I thought. What would you have me do?"

Laura smirked. "I think I know how to kill two birds with one stone…"

* * *

**Khan Residence**

Nadir entered Madeline's room with a small tray of food. "Drink this broth: it will make you feel better," he offered as he put the tray down and handed her the bowl of warm clear liquid.

The woman was shivering. The effects of the Leader's manipulation had worn off and left her like an addict without a fix.

"Where's my son..." she asked softly as she slowly sipped at the broth.

"He is busy, ma'am," Nadir replied. "I have called him and left a message informing him of your whereabouts."

Madeline nodded.

Truth be told, Nadir had left _several_ messages. Erik had not replied to any of them. It was as if the boy had completely forgotten about the woman...

_Or maybe he just doesn't care,_ Nadir thought. He was quite aware what Erik had gone through as a child, and there was no excuse for Madeline's behaviour. But still... the boy should at least show SOME interest in the woman's health and well-being.

Nadir let out a small sigh. Erik could be so infuriatingly stubborn.

* * *

**Residence Lounge – the next morning**

"Christine?" Erik's voice was greeted with a dropped plate as he entered the student lounge. Christine spun around and looked up at him, her blue eyes filled with….

…. Shock? Surprise?

He was hoping for something a little more positive, although perhaps he should not have snuck up on the poor girl. He always seemed to catch her off-guard and cause her to drop things.

"Erik!" she finally smiled and that smile almost undid him.

He looked away, fighting the urge to grab her and kiss her. He needed to talk. Maybe not here, but somewhere.

If his little breakdown at the Masquerade told him anything, it was that perhaps he wasn't quite ready to be a _normal_ man – or _boyfriend_, for that matter - despite his words to the contrary.

The dream he had had, his father's mental _invasion_, only cemented that fact.

"What's wrong?" Christine asked when she saw the rigid lines of his body. She went up to him and took his hand. "Erik?"

Erik shook the hand away, and instead grasped Christine around the waist and lifted her off her feet, holding her little body tightly against him.

He pushed away his current train of thought, reveling in the fact that his angel was here. And she was solid in his arms. She wasn't going to fade away into nothing and leave him feeling lost, lonely and utterly desolate.

He only wished he could promise the same.

Christine slid her arms around his neck. "Something's bothering you. Talk to me."

Erik glanced around, still holding her, though feeling paranoid of someone walking in.

"Sorelli and Jammes filled everyone in on my _mysterious boyfriend_, Erik," Christine offered when she saw his eyes darting back and forth. "It's not like anyone is going to be shocked you exist."

Unfortunately, the duo had also asked Christine several rather inappropriate questions about Erik's _talents_… and she knew they had not meant singing. The girls were rather surprised to find Christine had yet to _discover _said talents and had momentarily thought her insane.

"I felt the sudden need to see you," Erik answered, snapping Christine from her blush-worthy thoughts. _No, you felt the sudden need to **talk **to her… _the rational part of his brain told him. He ignored that part as his mouth found hers. She relaxed into his embrace, her lips parting of their own volition to allow the kiss more intimacy.

He slowly pulled away and pressed his face against her neck.

How was he going to do this? How could he tell his little angel why… why he had come to the decision he had come to. She wouldn't understand.

He could imagine the conversation now – she'd say that his breakdown at the Masquerade wasn't a big deal, that everyone has their phobias.

Sweet soul that she was, she'd be patient. She'd be happy to wait until he grew out of it.

But he could no more grow out of his fear of exposure than he could grow out of that which he feared exposing.

Erik's horrid face would always be a part of him, and his fear of it being revealed, his flashbacks to those days when he was a child and made to suffer because of it, would always be in the back of his mind.

All the understanding from the girl in his arms couldn't change that. And he had no right to expect her to simply _accept_ it. She deserved more than to be prisoner to _his _fears. She deserved someone who could go to a dance and not need to run away, not need to hide.

"Erik," Christine began gently. "You feel tense." He didn't answer, but Christine saw the shadow darken the golden depths behind his white mask. "Is something wrong?"

"No. Just an odd dream I had last night." He replied as he placed her back on her feet. _Liar…_his mind shouted at him. "I should not be here. Anyone can walk in."

"I know you're uncomfortable being out in the open like this, but it's okay. I promise. No one is going to care that my _eccentric boyfriend _is visiting," she smiled. Her voice was light and he could tell she was trying to cheer him up.

… and he loved her so very much for it.

He could feel his heart breaking. He could feel the sharp ache in his chest, the heavy weight of his body. But this would be for the better.

Better for _her_, at least.

"Yes, I suppose I _am_ rather eccentric, aren't I…" he said softly, then met her eyes. "Christine, would you like to go somewhere private tonight?"

* * *

**Khan Residence**

"Mr. Khan, I appreciate all the help you have given me," Madeline spoke quietly as she stared at the man before her. "But I'm worried about the parole board. No doubt they'll be ready to lock me up as soon as I resurface."

Nadir shook his head. "Never fear, Madeline. I have connections in high places. Commander Gus Leroux is aware of your _circumstances_. He will see that you will not be penalized for what has happened."

Madeline nodded, then met Nadir's eyes. "My son… he doesn't want to see me, does he?" she asked.

Nadir took a deep breath. How could he answer that question and spare her feelings. He glanced away. "He has not replied to the messages I have left him."

She appeared resigned, as if she knew as much.

"I can ask Christine if she could speak to him," Nadir offered.

Madeline shook her head. "If he doesn't want to see me, I don't want _her_ to get stuck in the middle of it," she replied, then stared down at the mug in her hands, her voice growing soft. "His coldness is no less then I deserve…"

* * *

**D'argento's Restaurant – that night**

Sitting at a table in a darkened corner of _D'argento's_, Meg had to take a moment to process the evening's strangeness.

First, of course, she was sitting across from the most eligible bachelor in town. That eligible bachelor had called her with dinner reservations _yesterday_, and still apologized for the late notice.

"_I completely understand if you've already made plans. I wouldn't be so presumptuous, I just found some shi- stuff…and I'm anxious to show it to you." _

"Of course! No, I'm not busy; I can't wait to tell you what I've got, too! What time should I meet you?"

Raoul paused. "Well, I thought I'd come pick you up, say around 7?"

"Oh!" Meg gasped. "That would be… very nice!"

She'd scrambled all day to put together an appropriate outfit: a skirt from Jammes paired with fitted black top and Sorelli's chandelier earrings looked chic but classic.

Meg panicked only a little when she tried to figure out how to get Christine away before the girl wondered why her ex-boyfriend was coming to pick Meg up. Luckily, it turned out Christine was heading out with Erik, and was gone well before Raoul had arrived.

Meg had fussed once more over her hair and makeup when she had heard a knock at the door. Raoul led her out, and not only opened the side door of the BMW, but also opened the door at _D'argento's_ for her as well.

She had tried not to react as if this was wholly unexpected, but when he nearly beat the host to pull out Meg's chair, she had to suppress a smile. Raoul's manners were so far beyond RJ's manners that Meg wondered – not for the first time – why she still stayed with the unappreciative boy.

Now Raoul was ordering a bottle of wine for them to share, and asking her opinion on what she would prefer.

"I've never really done this before, and you seem very comfortable here, so whatever you get, I'm sure it'll be great," she demurred.

Raoul smiled. "You are easy to please!"

Meg blushed. "Well, it's not every day I get to go out to a really nice restaurant and have my… friend act all chivalrous."

After they'd settled into the meal, Meg found that Raoul was loath to discuss his findings. He wanted to talk about other things: about Meg's studies, her roles in the new fall dance concert, her thoughts on the most mundane of topics.

Meg enjoyed the easy repartee, learning that Raoul liked the Pops concerts better than traditional symphony fare, that he wished to get his MBA at some point, and that he felt rather lonely around so many artistically talented people.

"Don't worry," she said after a sip of wine. "I can't sing to save my life! All I can do is dance, and that doesn't get you very far if you aren't a triple threat."

Raoul frowned. "A what?"

"Triple threat? A singer, dancer, actor. Christine could have a really nice performing career ahead of her. Me? I'll be lucky to find gainful employment in any dance company."

"You have a lot of skill, from what I've heard. And you are intelligent. You could have your dance career and move onto any number of other pursuits."

Meg was silent. No one had ever said such a thing to her. She nervously took another sip of wine as their plates were taken away.

"Onto the business at hand, shall we?" Raoul fetched a folder and laid it on the table in between them. "These documents contain information on my brother's dealing with that man, Shay. It's a lot of dull data really, but I've made copies of the files and carefully replaced them back in my brother's office."

He opened the folder and sifted through the stack. "These are records of phone conversations. Philip is meticulous about keeping accurate records. I bet I could find the cassettes he uses to tape his conversations. They talk… a lot."

Meg took one of the highlighted pages and scanned it. "Have you determined what it is that Philip does for Shay?"

Raoul shook his head. "I'm working on that. What I do know is that Shay approached Phillip for consulting advice a few years ago. Said he wanted to diversify his portfolio. Then, it seems, he and Philip started investing together. When our parents died, we inherited a great deal of debt, and I gather that Shay has been instrumental in helping Philip secure and rebuild our families' financial standing."

"So Philip might be returning favours?"

"Maybe. I don't know. Outside of working as an investor and managing our estate, I thought he just… well, I don't know what he does. But he's keeping a lot of 'meaningless' data on his interactions with Shay. And I found this…"

He pulled out a small sheet of paper.

"This is information on Christine!" Meg gasped. "Why would Philip—"

"And why would it been in his files?" Raoul sighed. "If this had been on his Blackberry, I'd just assume he was keeping tabs on his little brother's social life. But this note, this isn't even his handwriting. It may be Shay's… though why he'd be interested in Christine, I have no idea."

Meg thought a moment. "Well, maybe it's not Christine per se, but who she associates herself with."

Raoul nodded, thinking about that. "Erik?"

Meg shrugged. "Possibly. He's apparently one of the best in the Guild. Know your enemy, and all that." She offered. "Anyway, I found some tidbits myself," she opened up her purse and pulled out a few sheets of paper.

"My mother and her little association have been tracking Shay for a while. Among other people." She began. " I couldn't get into her locked file cabinets, and I'm sure she has hiding places I know nothing about, but I did find these two memos." She handed the folded papers to Raoul.

"This guy… or this thing… is really dangerous it seems." Raoul replied as he read the various printouts Meg had given him. " He's got your mom and her organization on high alert. Do you think he's," Raoul's voice softened into a whisper, "a vampire too?"

"Between you and me," said Meg, leaning in conspiratorially, "I think he's something worse."

* * *

**Sunday Night - Preston Park**

"So," Christine started quietly as her and Erik sat upon a log. "Why are we here?"

Erik said nothing as he tossed another twig onto the small campfire before them as they watched the sun set over the cliffs across the way.

Christine wasn't quite sure how they had ended up in the most secluded part of the bluffs. It was a good hour's drive by cab, which Erik had paid for. He had claimed that he simply wanted to be alone with her and needed some place private. She didn't mind, but he had been oddly quiet since they arrived.

He hadn't attempted to take advantage of the fact he was alone with her. She was both relieved and disappointed. However, she would have welcome an inappropriate grope right about now. It would have been far better than the anxiety she felt radiating off him.

"Erik?" She tried again, but he said nothing. "It's getting chilly," Christine pointed out.

Erik slid the lasso out of his pocket and tugged his black velvet duster off, placing it over _her _shoulders instead. He still remained quiet as ever. She was beginning to grow worried.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked. He was wearing only a thin black shirt, and she was quite sure the random patches of netting that decorated it did nothing to keep him warm. One of his newest purchases, she gathered.

Erik shook his head. "I will be fine…" He studied his leather-clad palms as if he had never seen them before, his uncovered fingers bending sharply, looking like long pale claws in the moonlight. He seemed to be debating silently with himself.

With a deep breath, he slid the mask off his face and allowed the breeze to cool his warm skin.

"Erik, careful!" Christine warned.

"I'd rather not hide right now, angel…"

Christine looked around frantically. "But someone could see!"

Erik grasped her chin and tilted her head up, forcing her to look at him. "Then _let _them see. I'm _sick _of hiding because I do not fit in!" he hissed harshly. His expression then softened as he cupped her cheek.

"I just worry about you, that's all," Christine began quietly, leaning into his touch, her eyes never leaving his.

"No need for such worry." He let a breath out slowly. "I am so very tired of pretending…" his voice sounded weary.

"Pretending?" Christine asked, realizing he was now talking about something quite different then his exposed visage.

Erik gently grasped Christine's wrists and pressed her hands against his chest, "Pretending that I could possibly have a normal life."

Christine shook her head, eyes growing wide as she feared where his words were leading. "No! Don't you _dare_!"

"Pretending _It's _not there!" he answered. "Pretending _It's _not eating away at me!"

"_What's _there, Erik?" She asked. "Please… what is it? What's wrong? Whatever it is, we can work it out!"

He shook his head. "Some things cannot be worked out, despite the best of intentions".

He put his hands to her face and pressed his forehead against hers. "I love you…" he continued, his beautiful voice cracking. "I love you so much. It's helping me fight what's inside. But the Leader… he keeps pulling it OUT! He keeps _reminding_ me. He doesn't let me forget."

"Forget what?" she asked, and he could see the unshed tears in her eyes.

"That I'm different. That I have no right to try and be… _normal_."

"If it's your face-" she started, but he interrupted.

"My _face _is one thing. My _nature _is another. It was concern over the exposure of my _face _that had me running from your dance the other week. But it was my _nature_ that had me purposely frightening the Ravelle students – and _enjoying_ it."

"Don't…" she began, and he already saw one tear trail its way down her cheek. "Don't do what I _think_ you're going to do!"

"If I could be saved, angel, you'd be the one thing… the _only_ thing that could do it…" he offered a weak smile. "But… there is far more to it than that. The Leader… the leader showed me. Do you have _any_ idea what is going on inside me, Christine?" he asked softly. "The war I'm constantly fighting?" he glanced away, unable to take the pain in her eyes.

"I need to confess something to you." he continued. "I am sure you already heard what happened to that boy, Bobby. Being the smart girl you are, you know who caused his _accident_ off the roof."

Christine nodded. "But he'll be ok. He woke up the other day, and he's going to start rehabilitation. He… he doesn't remember exactly what happened, but-"

"That's not the point!" Erik snapped, then his tone grew softer when he saw her wince at his sharp tone. "The point is… I would not have cared if he HAD died." He saw her momentary shock. "And… while I am confessing here," he continued, "I also _executed_ someone shortly after I returned to Ravelle. I did not care then either."

He met her eyes. "Now tell me, sweet angel… do you _still _not want me to do what you _know_ I am going to do?"

Christine stared up at him, the silence stretching on forever. He saw she was taking in what he had just said… and then…

… and then, she slid her arms around him and buried her face against his chest.

"No," she whispered softly. "I STILL don't want you to leave me."

"And why _not_?" he asked. "I already told you that you can't _save_ me."

"I don't believe you." Her voice was muffled against his shirt. "If you want me to… I _can_. I _know _I can! Because I lo-"

Erik suddenly jumped to his feet, breaking all physical contact as he sensed something dark approaching. "Get behind me!" he commanded.

He glanced down when Christine did not move, and saw an emotion in her eyes that he had never seen before – from anyone.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he yanked her to her feet and stepped protectively in front of her.

"I was wondering how long it would take them," Erik bent down and grasped his rope from the ground as two figures stepped out of the shadows. He slowly slid his mask back into place and focused his attention on the newcomers.

He knew they had come to take him. The Leader had told him where he belonged.

Christine stood behind Erik, grasping his arm in concern. "It's okay, Christine. I need to go," his voice was quiet.

Christine blinked at that. "What? No you don't!"

He turned to look at her. "It would be far too dangerous to stay here any longer. Dangerous for _both _of us." He gently smoothed a lock of hair off Christine's face, then leaned down to give her one last kiss. A kiss filled with intense emotion rather than hungry desire.

A _good-bye_ kiss.

Erik turned his attention back to the intruders, and took a step towards them. Christine threw her arms around him from behind. "No! You can't just LEAVE! I won't let you!"

He turned in her embrace, smiling at her strong spirit and force of will - one of the things he loved so very much about her.

Erik gently ran his fingers through her hair, then slid his hands over her shoulders and down her arms, gently unhooking her steel grip before stepping away and turning his back to her once more.

"My wallet and cell phone are in the left pocket of the coat you now wear," He continued, his voice growing cold and distant. "Call a cab to take you home. Use my money to cover it... and take care of Isis and her kittens."

Erik could not meet her eyes. "I hope you find happiness, Christine. You deserve it. Far more then anyone else I know. Be relieved that you did not give your heart to me."

With that said, Erik headed towards the two who had come to claim him. Soon, they faded into the shadows of the trees that surrounded the small campfire.

Christine was rooted to the spot, unable to move. Unable to breathe. She finally shook herself out of her momentary stupor and ran into the trees after him.

"Erik?" She cried out. "I already DID give it to you, Erik! Please!" But she knew it was too little, too late.

Christine continued running, but soon found herself alone. In the dark. The frightening, intimidating dark that only felt safe when _he_ was with her.

If Christine dared to proceed any further, she knew she would find herself lost.

"Bring him BACK!" she shouted, her demand going unheeded as she hugged his coat around herself. "Bring him BACK to me!"

She fell to her knees, silence the only thing that greeted her sobs.

* * *

**Meg and Christine's Dorm**

Meg walked into the dorm room quietly, not wanting to wake Christine in case she was sleeping. As it turned out, however, her best friend was not even in the room. No doubt she was having far too much fun making out with Erik somewhere.

Meg plopped herself down on her bed and looked up at the ceiling.

A wave of guilt suddenly swept over her – not only because she was sneaking around in her mother's private business, but also because she had enjoyed Raoul's company tonight more then she had ever enjoyed RJ's.

Then again, Raoul had _not_ spent the evening attempting to relieve Meg of her clothing, as RJ so often did.

Meg frowned. _Raoul is also Christine's ex_, she reminded herself.

Christine had often commented that Raoul De Chagny was a decent guy, despite times when he'd act a little spoiled and immature. Meg knew that Christine had cared for Raoul while they were together, and that she still remained friends with him to this day.

It was only that Christine's heart had gone to someone else. But Christine had made it clear that had not been Raoul's fault. She had not wanted Meg to see him in a poor light when she had broken up with him last Christmas.

"_I'm not in love with him,_" Christine had told her. _"I'm fond of him. I care about him, but as for our future together,_" she shook her head. "_I don't see it._"

"_And who DO you see a future with?_" Meg had asked Christine at the time.

Well, that question had now been answered.

Meg wondered once again where Christine and Erik had disappeared too.

**END OF EPISODE 28**


	29. Episode 29: Seeking

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir (and another big thanks for her help)**_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 29: Seeking

By: Elektra

**Dean Giry's Office**

Giry offered the distraught girl another cup of herbal tea. Christine absently took the mug and sipped at it, "I don't know WHY they took him," she spoke softly, having told Giry the events of the previous night.

"Erik would not allow himself to be _taken_, Christine. No doubt he went with them willingly." Giry replied. She looked at Christine. "And I am sure the foolish man has his foolish reasons." Her voice then grew quiet. "Sadly, I do not expect him to be back any time soon."

Christine shook her head. "No. He _has _to. Even if I have to get him _myself_," she looked up at the older lady, her eyes desperate. "Do you know where they took him? Please, Madame… if you have any idea, tell me!

"And what?" Giry raised an eyebrow, "Have you go after him? What do you know about fighting the Leader and his people? This is a matter better saved for professionals, dear. It is OUR territory… "

"You DO know where he is, don't you?" Christine demanded.

Giry shook her head. "Whether I do or not does not matter. It is NOT a place where you should be."

"I don't CARE!" Christine snapped. "If _I _was dragged away, he'd come racing after ME!"

"He would not want you to risk your life." Giry replied calmly.

Christine slammed the mug down on the table, "I _need_ to find him!" she shouted. "I will NOT lose someone else I love!"

"Christine…?" Giry's voice was soft with surprise. "When did you-"

"I don't know…" Christine interrupted quietly, "For a while now… I suppose." She took a deep breath. "I only realized it recently." She glanced away. "We've been together since the summer, but I've never told him." She looked ashamed. "I've tried… but every time I start, I let something stop me."

"Your apprehension is understandable. Erik has not exactly the best choice in suitors as of late, you understand?" Giry explained.

"I know, Madame." Christine looked at the older woman. "And no doubt my feelings for him would have everyone else thinking I be highly medicated and strapped to a bed."

She glanced away. "Though maybe I should be, considering how desperate I am to walk into the Leader's world and drag him back." She met Giry's eyes. "But I can't do that without help! Please? Will you help me find my ghost?"

"Return to your dorm, my dear. I have no doubt he would not want you to follow him." Giry glanced away. "But to leave him in the hands of the Leader is a troublesome thing indeed. It is a problem that needs to be taken care of."

Christine studied the woman before her, not sure what _taken care of_ implied.

"Madame?" she asked softly. "The… the Hunters aren't going to _hurt _them, are they?"

"We would certainly not _want_ to, Christine. But… if we are left with no choice…"

Christine stared at the woman before her, her jaw set in determination. "I'M your choice!"

* * *

**Laramie Drive**

Erik yanked the rope tight around his enemy's neck. "Why did you _attack _me!" he demanded.

The mindless man had no answer as his life slowly ebbed from his body. With one final yank, Erik heard the crack of vertebrae, the Leader's lackey falling to the ground lifeless.

Erik calmly coiled his rope back up and was immediately joined by Laura, seeing no reason why the lovely pale woman should be smiling so proudly at such a gruesome kill.

"Just as we thought," she began. "You certainly are Shay's son,"

"I was defending myself." Erik replied. "Why did one of the Leader's mindless drones try to _assassinate _me?" He hissed as he kicked the dead man at his feet.

"I told him too," Laura replied.

"Then perhaps it was YOU I should have killed!" Erik snapped, grabbing her by the throat.

"It was a test…" came another voice - a voice that had not long ago been in his head, telling him to stop denying what he was. Telling him to come _home_. "Let go of her now, _son._"

Erik glared back at Laura, ignoring his _father's _command.

"I attack threats," Erik hissed, "And if Laura is the one who sent a lackey to kill me then SHE is a threat!" He narrowed his eyes. "And I promise, Lovely Laura, I will _not _regret ending your miserable un-life!" Laura simply smirked at him, rather excited by the rough attention and threats. He quickly let go of her, disgusted.

"She was merely following my order. Would that make _me _a threat too?" The Leader replied.

Erik studied him. "Since I am of your blood, _unfortunately_, I will give you a chance to explain yourself. But do not fail to understand that I am here only to keep _others _SAFE." He tucked his rope back into the inner pocket of the long black cloak he had taken to wearing since his arrival there.

The leader raised an eyebrow. "Safe from _me_ or _yourself_?" he asked. Erik glanced away and said nothing. This seemed to please Shay.

"As I said," Shay continued, "it was a test. You have proved yourself in the last week. I'm impressed at the skills you have," the Leader said. "No more tests for now. Have some fun with this lovely lady here." He indicated Laura. "You can join us for dinner in the banquet room later."

Erik said nothing as he turned on his heel and headed down into the tunnels beneath the house…

…alone.

* * *

**Ravelle College Residence - Erik's Room (Three days later)**

Christine sat on the bed and stared at Erik's coat hanging on a nearby chair. He still had not returned.

He had truly meant that good-bye?

"Where are you?" she asked the empty room. No answer was forthcoming, "Of all the lousy times to leave," she muttered, "Just when we were starting to-" she stopped and shook her head.

Everywhere she looked, she was reminded of her angel of music. His violin still lay in its case beneath his desk. His toothbrush was still in his bathroom. Isis and her kittens were still waiting for their _daddy _to return.

But now Christine realized he _wasn't _returning.

"Was it because of ME? Is it because I never told you how I felt?" Christine stared at the wall as she was left alone to contemplate her thoughts. The feelings she had finally admitted to herself. "Erik, you are a big dumb stupid… _jerk_!" she shouted to the empty room.

"Damn it!" she cursed. "You're going to make me come after you, aren't you? FINE! Be that way! I'll drag you back kicking and screaming if I have to!"

Christine quickly jumped to her feet and grabbed Erik's coat as she headed out the door.

She was going to find him. With or without the Guild's help.

* * *

**De Chagny Residence**

"Okay," Raoul started as he sat across from Meg. "Do you want some coffee or tea?" he paused slightly, then raised an eyebrow when he saw how nervous the girl appeared to be, "…or maybe some hard liquor?"

"No, thanks." Meg replied with a smile. She grew serious again. "Really, you think it's okay to just sit in here and talk like this?"

An hour of uninterrupted conversation had done nothing to ease Meg's anxiety over being overheard.

"Why not? It's the study. Phil's working in his office. And believe me, he won't be showing his face outside that room for at least," Raoul checked his watch, "well, if he comes out for dinner, I'll be shocked."

"Work-aholic?"

"After our parents died, he just poured himself into trying to alleviate the mess that was left." Raoul sighed. "I'm grateful. I mean, I don't do anything to help."

Meg watched his face darken. "Are you worried? About what we're doing? Are you concerned Phil's involved in something … bad?"

Raoul met her eyes. "I can't… I won't think that Phil is knowingly doing something illegal or immoral. It's just not possible."

"Well, six months ago I wouldn't have ever believed that my mother was a part of some kind of cult that hunts down supernatural monsters."

Raoul put his head in his hands. "But that's different. And right now, all we have is some connection between this _thing _Shay and my brother. It doesn't mean that—"

The knock at the front entryway door cut Raoul off. Meg started to stand up, more out of nervousness than actually propriety, and Raoul leapt up to meet her when they heard _that voice_.

"I have an unexpected appointment with Mr. De Chagny."

Meg started to speak, but Raoul laid and hand on her shoulder and shook his head.

He guided her silently towards to the doors, and turned to lower his face close to Meg's.

"He'll meet with Phil in his office and we can sneak out, upstairs to my room," he whispered into her ear.

She flushed slightly at that, but nodded her consent.

Just as Raoul laid his hand on the knob, he heard Philip enter the foyer.

"Mr. Shay, I didn't know we had an—"

"We didn't. But I've had a few changes in my personal life that call for a few changes in my professional one. And I couldn't bear to wait another moment."

Meg looked up at Raoul, who shook his head and leaned forward to listen.

"Yes, of course. Shall we?"

"Don't you have some scotch in this house? I'm in the mood to celebrate my good fortune of late."

Raoul stiffened and pulled Meg away from the door. He looked side to side, then hustled her towards a door. "Another way out?" she whispered.

"No. The only thing I can think of." He quickly opened the door, revealing a storage closet overflowing with boxes and books. Meg stepped in gingerly with Raoul pressing behind her just as the doors to the study flung open.

"I'll pour you a glass. Have a seat please," said Philip, his voice carrying through the thick closet door. Meg started to stumble backwards; Raoul caught her around the waist and pulled her close to him to steady her.

Trying to stifle her harsh breathing, Meg resigned to let her hand rest on Raoul's chest as she strained to listen.

"It seems my son has finally decided to come home," Shay began. "It took a bit of doing, but I am glad for it…"

Raoul and Meg exchanged glances. _Son_, Meg mouthed. Raoul shrugged, neither having an idea who Shay could be referring too. They heard the squeak of a chair as the man sat down.

"What can _I _do for you, sir?" Philip asked.

"Well, we want to merge our funds," Shay said. "Invest together, along with you, of course. My son has made quite a nice living for himself…"

"Really?" Philip seemed interested, "And what does he do?"

"He's an architect, actually…" Shay replied.

The sliver of light from the bottom of the door allowed Meg to see the surprised look in Raoul's eyes. They both knew a certain architect who had disappeared recently.

Raoul unconsciously tightened his grip on the petite ballerina, but Meg didn't find herself offended by it in any way. Just the opposite, in fact…

"Well," Philip's voice continued on the other side, "There are things to work out, of course. Your son will have to come here on his own to sign the papers and whatnot…"

"Oh, I am afraid that may not be possible. He is rather unwell and I do not know when he'll be able to come. I will take the papers to him and have him sign." Shay said. Meg shivered at the sound of his voice. She had a feeling the man was hiding something.

"I would rather be witness to it, Mr. Shay," Philip countered. She saw a hint of a proud smile on Raoul's face. It seemed Philip, though unaware of the full scope of the situation, was not entirely trusting of Shay after all.

"If he is unwell," Philip continued, "We will merely have to wait until he is better. It is very important he is here in person, or I cannot, in good conscience, invest his money into anything…"

Meg heard the sound of a chair rolling back and a large man slamming his hands against a wall. "If I cannot get what I want from YOU, then I will find someone else to invest with!"

Philip's voice was calm when he replied, "I am sorry, Mr. Shay, if your son is as ill as you say, then how do I know with what mind he is signing legal papers? It is a risk neither of us can afford. It can cause far too many problems should your son choose to go back on the agreement."

"He will NOT go back on it!" Shay insisted.

"But we do not know that," Philip answered logically. "When he is well, bring him with you. Until then, you know my terms."

There was a stomping of feet and the opening of the door. Meg and Raoul breathed a sigh of relief, allowing their bodies to relax a little… and inadvertently knocking over a box beside them.

"What on earth!" they heard Philip's voice. "Who's there!" he demanded.

The two exchanged nervous glances, then heard Philip coming closer to the door.

Thinking fast, Meg grabbed Raoul's face and pulled him into a kiss just as Philip swung the closet open.

"Geez, Ray! Your ex's _best friend_?" Philip was unimpressed with the sight before him.

Meg broke the kiss immediately, and noted Raoul looked rather shocked and breathless. "Uh… I… ummm…" Raoul quickly focused on his brother, regaining his composure.

"Sorry, Phil…" He continued. "It… well, it was only this one time. A shared moment of weakness. It won't happen again. _Ever_." Raoul promised. Meg wondered if she should feel insulted, but before she could decide, Raoul took her hand and lead her out of the small confined area, "Come on. I'll see you to the door." He said to her.

With one last glance back at Philip's disapproving face, Meg followed Raoul out.

* * *

**Elsewhere – a week later**

Christine pulled Erik's duster tight around her. She had had to tie the bottom up around the waist, lest the length drag on the floor behind her.

Wherever she was, it was cold.

Cold… and dark.

"We must be careful, Miss Daaé," Nadir began beside her as he held a flashlight aloft. "There is no telling what lurks in these catacombs. I believe we are beneath the Leader's house."

Judging by the stone walls and sheer size of the chamber surrounding her, Nadir's guess seemed correct. The two had found a passage that had led them here while wandering the wide perimeter of the large building. She guessed it had been used as an escape route at some point way back when.

Christine put a hand against the wall and felt mildew, mold, and all other manner of unhealthy spores one wouldn't want to breathe in. "Nasty place. Creepy."

"Yes. Erik seems drawn to places like this. You have seen his room."

Christine let out a soft laugh. "Yeah. He likes basements."

Christine pulled her hands from the wall. She could only imagine Erik's reaction once he saw that touching the wall had left an ugly residue on the sleeves that were far too long for Christine's arms.

"I'm wrecking his coat. He's going to be so angry," she told Nadir, but realized Erik would probably be angrier that she came after him in the first place.

Christine hugged herself as a cold draft came through the spaces the mortar had either not filled in, or had crumbled out of.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of the coat… and the scent of the male who usually wore it. "I can't believe he just _left _melike that," she muttered as she jammed her hands into the large pockets, furrowing her brow a little when she felt his cell phone still resided there.

No doubt it would be useless in these catacombs, but she pulled it out anyway and turned it on.

No reception. Of course not.

She flipped through the contact list and saw the words "_my angel_" beside her cellphone number. It made her smile. She then saw the picture accompanying it – it was her, sleeping. Taken by the camera in the phone.

No doubt he had snuck into her dorm room to snatch this picture.

"He wanted to guard you, my dear." Nadir spoke, startling Christine out of her thoughts as they continued down the tunnel. "That is all he has ever wanted to do."

"It would have been easier if he stayed by my _side_ to guard me," she replied, turning the phone off and slipping it back in the pocket.

"Ah, but Erik never seems to take the easy way," Nadir replied with a smile Christine couldn't see in the dim light the flashlight provided.

Christine stopped dead when she came upon a bolted door. "What's this?" It wasn't made of stone; it was made of thick steel… as was the rest of the wall before her.

Nadir ran the light over it and realized it wasn't just a wall. "It seems to be a _room_."

Christine had to stop herself from knocking on the door. Whatever was in there would not be something she wanted to see.

The two began to walk away, but a sound coming through a tiny crack in the door stopped her. The voice was young. Female. And very weak.

Christine slowly walked back to the door and spoke hesitantly, "Uh… hello?"

"Whoever's there… let us out," came the soft voice. "They're really sick,"

Christine didn't know what to do or say. In a place like this, wherever it was, the two of them could very well be walking into a trap.

"They won't let us out, Karra. You know that," came a young male voice in response.

Nadir gasped. "Tell me these are not children!"

The two then heard a violent retching from beyond the door. Nadir leaned in closer, and noticed the acrid smell coming through the crack the girl was speaking through. It was enough to make him recoil, glad his own stomach was already empty from missing supper.

"I'm opening the door." Nadir decided. "Stand back. I do not know which way it swings."

Whoever was in there was ill. Trap or no, he would regret it if he didn't try to help.

Christine took the flashlight from Nadir as he lifted the large rusty bar that had been locked in place. He had to tug at the heavy door, stumbling back until it finally opened… and unleashed a smell so foul that Christine had to breathe in the material of the coat so as not to collapse from it.

A young girl crawled out, and Christine could see she was covered in her own filth. "Oh god…" Christine gasped, still unwilling to pull the material away from her face. A boy followed behind her, just as filthy.

"Sweet Allah!" Nadir gasped, then covered his face with a handkerchief as he glanced into the dark empty room.

"There aren't any more," the boy spoke quietly, "they're dead."

The boy appeared to be in his mid teens. Perhaps 14 or 15 and having just gone through a growth spurt. He stood several inches taller then Christine, but that was no surprise – most people did.

Holding her breath, Christine held the flashlight just inside the door. A hand covered her eyes. "No, Miss Daaé. Do not look."

Nadir had seen the sight before her. Three more children lay unmoving in their own mess, several days dead.

He looked at the two before him. No wonder they had grown so sick. They were left in a room with rotting corpses. They were, no doubt, children who had long-since been ill, surrounded by human waste and other things he didn't want to know about.

Nadir quickly forced the door shut, wanting to scream and sob at such cruelty, to bring down curse after curse upon those who had done it… but first, these two children needed their help.

Christine removed the sleeve from her face, able to breathe a bit easier, save for the stench of the children. She knelt beside them, "What are your names?"

"Jason and Karra." The boy replied, indicating himself and the girl respectively.

She nodded. "I'm Christine. This is Nadir. Do you two live around here?" Christine asked. "Did you get lost?"

"We live where all the others live," the boy started to explain. "They made us their servants."

"Servants?" Christine asked as she looked up at him. "Like, cooks and butlers and maids?" she asked.

"Unwillingly, yeah," the boy answered. "They don't pay us. They MAKE us do stuff, and threaten us if we don't."

The girl nodded. "And sometimes… we're their dinner," she answered.

Christine shivered at that. "Who are _they_?"

"The ones who live in the house." the boy explained. "The Leader, this girl named Laura, and whoever else hangs around. They have others like us carrying out their orders… but… they're kind of NOT like us any more."

Christine nodded. Erik had mentioned once how Bobby was no longer himself when her fellow student had broken into her dorm room. "How did you end up in this place?"

"Me and my mother went on a hike," the girl explained. "We got lost. They found us."

"My aunt and I were coming home from a late movie," the boy replied. "Shouldn't have taken the short cut,"

Christine asked the one question she was dreading, "Do you know where we are?"

The boy nodded. "The haunted house on Laramie drive," he answered. "No one comes here. They're all afraid."

Nadir finally spoke. "And why were you two locked up?"

"I accidentally dropped a plate of food on Miss Laura. She got really angry. It was a heavy plate, but I guess I should have been more careful," the boy offered.

"One of the Leader's guards liked me a little too much. I turned him down and he threw me in here to see if I would change my mind," the girl explained. Christine could see her shiver at the thought.

"Do you know your way around here?" The guild detective asked again.

"Sort of," Jason replied.

"_Sort of _enough to bring us to the others?" Nadir asked.

He nodded."My Aunt is there too, and so is Karra's mom,"

"Could you take us there then," Nadir replied. Jason nodded. Nadir handed him the flashlight and the young boy took the lead, glad to have a purpose. Karra walked as close to him as possible.

"So tell me how you children ended up getting so ill?"

"They gave us food," Jason explained as the four huddled close together making their way down in the hall, "It was rotten… but we were hungry. We didn't know."

"We all got sick, and… the room got messy… which made us sicker," Karra replied.

"I can imagine," Christine replied

"That's not yours, is it?" Jason asked, indicating the coat Christine wore as the group walked on.

"It's my boyfriend's. I actually came here to find him, "

"He must be tall," Jason replied.

"Yeah… pretty tall." Christine answered. Jason was going to ask more, but before he could, the boy froze in his tracks.

"Run!" he cried out. "RUN!"

Nadir and Christine spun around to face the two creatures who were attempting to sneak up behind them.

"GO, Christine!" Nadir ordered. "I will take care of this."

The first creature smiled coldly, and immediately shoved Christine out of the way, going after the Hunter. Jason stumbled away and ran down the hall. Christine scrambled to her feet and followed suit, remaining on Jason's heels, urging him to continue running.

It was going well until Jason tripped and fell on the uneven ground. Christine halted in her tracks, taking only a second to cover him, trying to protect the boy from the creature Nadir was _not _dealing with.

"GO…" she gasped to the boy. "Protect Karra!"

Jason twisted his head to look up at her, then squirmed out from her protection and did as she asked.

The creature ignored the boy and dug a sharp knee into Christine's back as he grabbed her ponytail and yanked. "So pretty!" He hissed. "I love playing with pretty things! Want to play with me?"

"No…" Christine cried out, her voice a painful whimper as he tugged tighter.

"Why not? I could be lots of fun!" He growled, "And just to make sure you can't run away…" He reached back and twisted her ankle hard enough that she could hear a pop, causing Christine to scream out in agony.

Before the creature could do anything more, it turned to dust above her.

"Miss Daaé?" Nadir asked as he knelt before the girl and helped her to her feet.

Christine stumbled awkwardly, Nadir supporting her the best he could as the two staggered in the direction they had seen the children run.

The burning in Christine's ankle was almost unbearable, causing tears to spill down her cheeks from the sheer pain. "Have to find the children..." she muttered. "…Have to make sure they're ok."

"First, we make sure YOU are ok!" Nadir insisted. "There must be an exit here somewhere."

"Christine?" a soft voice spoke. She looked to see Jason standing before her, holding out the flashlight. "I came back to get you…" he paused, his voice barely above a whisper. "Is it gone?"

"Yeah… Nadir… Nadir took care of it." Christine spoke weakly, offering a small smile. Her body was going into shock, she knew that much. Her ankle had gone numb, and she was ready to collapse… but first… first she had to follow Jason.

Jason reached out and put Christine's other arm over his shoulders, trying to help Nadir carry the unsteady girl down three corridors. The three finally came upon a large steel door and Jason knocked rhythmically. A code, Christine realized.

"Verna will take care of you," he replied as the door opened, "I'm so sorry, Christine..." his young voice was filled with regret.

Christine slowly staggered into the torch-lit room and saw several frightened eyes turn to her, sizing her up and deciding whether she was friend of foe.

Christine could speak only one name before she passed out from her pain…

* * *

**Laramie Drive - Erik's Catacombs**

_Erik…_

It was a whisper in the tunnels where Erik now made his home beneath the house on Laramie Drive.

A voice that wasn't there.

He wanted to forget. To begin anew. To be what he was always meant to be… but… that voice still haunted him. It was not here. _Could_ not be here!

And it was better that way.

He did not want her to see him as he was now – wiping his lasso with a damp cloth after yet another _test_. The Leader did seem to enjoy giving him those.

Ever since he was a child, he had wanted to find a place to belong. A place where he had parents who _wanted _him around.

Well, he had found a father. But he knew Shay wanted him for the wrong reasons.

There was someone who DID want him, though. And for the _right _reasons. She called him her _Angel of Music_.

But Erik now realized it could never happen. He was… and always would be… a _murderer_.

The masked man angrily threw the damp cloth against the cavern wall, the candlelight reflecting the red water now dripping down the rock.

He was damned either way.

Forget the Angel of Music.

All that remained was _the Angel of Death_. 

END OF EPISODE 29


	30. Episode 30: Into the Woods

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir **_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 30: Into the Woods

By: Elektra

**Laramie Drive – Shay's study**

"So, two entered from the underground tunnels?" the Leader questioned the female guard who stood before him.

"Yes, sir. I believe one was a Hunter," the guard explained. "I had sent two of my men after them, but alas, they came to dust. Though we did manage to injure one of them first."

The guard's tale caught the attention of the masked man lurking in the air ducts above, his presence as yet unnoticed by the two beneath him.

The Leader studied the person before him. "Male or female?" Could his latest visitor really be the girl who had bewitched his son?

"Female, sir. Seemed young."

The Leader's thoughts turned inward - if this girl was Christine, then he could make plans for her. His son would never have to know.

"Would she make a good plaything?" The Leader asked. "From your account, she seems to be rather spirited. It would be fun to have her around," he smiled coldly.

"Ah, sir, she was not as curvaceous as the females we already have." A pause. "But I am sure many would find such an innocent appearance quite desirable…"

The Leader laughed heartily at this, "No doubt my honoured guests would!" he replied with a cold smile. "Keep an eye on her. Bring her to our dinner table as a servant when she is healthy enough. We will see how many find interest in her, and she will be given to each one in turn," he replied.

Yes… that plan would be far more beneficial for all concerned.

* * *

**Tunnels - Two days later**

"How are you feeling, dear?" A middle-aged woman asked as she carefully tried to style Christine's hair.

"I'll be ok, Sandy," Christine replied to the kind woman who had introduced herself shortly after Christine had woken from her shock-induced stupor. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me," the captive replied, "thank Verna. She's the one who set and wrapped your ankle." Sandy spoke of the female tending to a man across the room.

Christine turned her head to look at the fair-haired woman. A doctor before she had been brought here, Christine had been told. Karra tapped her mother on the shoulder as Christine mouthed a word of thanks to Verna. Verna replied with a "thumbs up", then went back to the broken arm she was mending.

"Well, that's the best I can do, honey. We don't have a whole lotta fancy hair gels here." Sandy replied as she handed Christine a cracked dusty mirror.

Christine smiled at the reflection. Sandy had done an excellent job. "I love it!"

"I'm glad." Sandy smiled. "I'm … well… I USED to be a hairdresser. Before things happened."

"How long has it been?" she asked.

Sandy shrugged. "Not sure, dear. Months? Maybe a year? Time goes by so slowly here. There's some big deal going on right now. Something about finding the Leader's kid. He's rather important, apparently." She shook her head. "That can only mean bad things for us," she then turned and called Jason from across the room.

The teenaged boy quickly came up to Christine and his aunt. He looked healthier than he'd had in the last few days.

"Help Christine make her way to Verna," Sandy replied.

Jason grasped Christine's arms and supported her as she cautiously stood up and led her over.

"Are you feeling any better today?" Verna asked as Jason gingerly eased the girl on the cot beside her.

"Still hurts," Christine replied, then smiled. "but after so many years of ballet lessons, one gets used to sprained ankles."

Verna smiled as she held a hand out. "Let's see," she said as she indicated for Christine to lift her pant leg. She peeled off the used wrappings, cleaned the skin, then added some more ointment and began to tape it back up.

"So, what's your story?" Verna asked. "I know Karra told you how WE got here,"

Christine nodded. "I came looking for my boyfriend with a friend of his." She nodded over to Nadir, who could be seen through a small space in the curtain having a rather animated conversation with Sandy. "I know he's here, but I haven't seen him anywhere,"

"What does your boyfriend look like?"

"Well…" Christine began hesitantly. How _would_ she describe what Erik looked like? "He's in his early thirties. He's tall and athletic. Moves with the uncanny grace of a cat." She glanced over to Verna, who had her brow furrowed, trying to picture the person Christine was describing.

"Um… he's got black hair that falls to his shoulders, these amazing golden eyes," she then offered a smile. "And he wears a mask. You would definitely know if you saw him. He kind of stands out."

Verna froze, only half-finished taping Christine's ankle. "A mask?" Verna repeated nervously.

"Um… yeah…" Christine replied carefully. From the tone of Verna's voice, Christine knew she was disturbed by something. "He… uh… he arrived here before I did," she continued hesitantly.

Verna's voice was unsteady. "Are you very certain he is your _boyfriend_?"

"Well, considering he's always telling me he loves me… yeah, I'm pretty sure he's my boyfriend." Christine offered a light-hearted smile, then saw the serious look on Verna's face. She immediately grew worried. "What is it? Is there something wrong? Is he OK?"

"Christine," Verna started softly. "The only person who fits that description is-" she stopped.

Christine took a deep breath, preparing for the worst. "Who, Verna? Who fits that description?" There was no answer. "Please…" Christine pleaded, "I need to know. Did something happen to him?"

"No," Verna whispered, "nothing has happened to him, Christine," a pause, then finally, "the Leader would let nothing happen…to his _son_…"

* * *

**Recreation Hall**

"You are a difficult one, Erik," Laura pouted as she slid into Erik's lap. "Why haven't you taken me to your bed? Your little ballerina isn't going to be around to see it!"

"I am pretty sure you could never fulfill my appetites, Laura." Erik replied arrogantly. "And I do not have the time nor patience to fraternize with you."

Laura narrowed her eyes. "So you're quite content to be alone forever?"

"I have things to attend to," Erik shoved Laura off his lap and stood up. "If your Leader is looking for me, tell him I am in the study."

Laura said nothing as she angrily jumped to her feet and made her way to Shay's bedchambers.

If she couldn't have one, she'd have the other!

* * *

**Elsewhere**

Meg and Raoul stared at the building before them. It looked rundown and rarely used. "Are you sure this is the right place?" Raoul asked the girl beside him.

Meg nodded. "I finally got into my mom's file cabinet. Found the address of the Guild's headquarters…" She frowned. "though maybe it was an old address?"

"Only one way to find out, I suppose…" Raoul sighed, then shook his head. "If we get caught, Phil is gonna kill me."

"We'll just have to NOT get caught then," Meg offered with a smile. She nodded to a window on the far left, and the two slowly went up to it, trying to look through the filthy glass. "Should we try and open it?" she asked.

"I think it'll probably be locked," Raoul answered.

Meg shrugged then motioned for him to follow her to the other side of the building where a fire escape ladder was attached to the wall. She tilted her head back and looked up. Raoul crouched before her. "I'll give you a boost…" he offered.

Meg placed her foot in his hands and he pushed her up high enough to grab the end of the ladder. She yanked the bottom down and started climbing, the blonde man following quickly behind her.

They finally reached the roof, and looked for a way in. "Here!" Raoul said as he found a metal grate a few feet away. "If you help me, we can probably move it out of the way…"

Meg quickly rushed over to him, and the two yanked and pulled until it came loose.

While bemoaning the fact the grate they had removed led to nothing but a foot-deep hole, the roof suddenly slid open beneath them, and Raoul and Meg found themselves falling into endless darkness.

* * *

**Tunnels - four hours later**

Christine lay on her stomach and stared at the stained black velvet duster lying on the ground beside her cot. Not for the first time, she wondered where its owner was.

The Leader's son.

Things began to make sense now – why the Leader had wanted Erik so much.

Christine took a deep breath, and began to sing the first song that fit her current mood - which was rather depressing at the moment.

"Please continue," a voice spoke up. Christine turned to see Karra staring at her. "You have a beautiful voice."

Nadir had been caught by Christine's singing, and smiled. "She has had an excellent teacher," he said, then motioned for her to continue the song.

Soon Christine realized she had the attention of the entire room.

* * *

Tomorrow, the Leader was going to officially introduce his heir to those important enough to know him. Several guests had been arriving the last few days. 

Although Erik had been in the house – no, house was too much of an understatement - this was more an estate - for a few weeks now, Shay had wanted to make sure his son was worthy enough to be his heir. He had tested the younger man in hand-to-hand fights, only to see the swift, violent, and remorseless destruction of his lackeys.

The Executioner seemed to be in full swing as of late.

Erik wandered the halls aimlessly while he knew most others were sleeping or busy with their women. His ebony cape rested on his shoulders, shadowing his entire body as he explored the torch-lit corridors.

He had not yet explored the entire building or the tunnels beneath and had been unable to sleep properly for the last few days. He had used the time to explore his surroundings, allowing his mind to wander with his body.

Erik stopped as he finally noticed where he was. He had not been to this part of the tunnels before. It was the bowels of the dark estate, slime and filth dripping off the fungus-covered stone walls and pooling in mildewed puddles on the floor.

What had brought him here?

A large rusty door loomed at the end of the hall, and he came to the conclusion that he was in the servant's annex. It was a place only the guards would go, as it was part of their duty to bring whatever manner of servants the Leader and his guests required.

Erik suddenly froze as a sound came to his ears. He stared at the door before him.

Someone was singing.

He quickly went up to the cold steel and pressed his ear to the crack between the metal and the wall. The angelic female voice was unmistakable. He rested his gloved hands against the door and closed his eyes.

He had trained that beautiful voice himself.

"Christine…"

* * *

Christine was about to continue, but froze as she heard another voice sing the next line of the song. The voice sounded more like a haunted echo then anything human, but she knew better. 

The group surrounding her seemed shocked, however. "The ghost!" Karra gasped.

"Ghost?" Christine asked, curious now. She only knew one ghost who sounded like an angel.

"We hear that voice all the time," Sandy began as she joined the group that had gathered around Christine. "The sound travels through the tunnels at night. It's so painfully beautiful. We don't know who it belongs to. And it's never sounded THIS close before…"

Christine ran to the door and raised her voice as she continued where _the ghost_ left off, hoping against hope that he'd follow it.

* * *

Erik wanted to rip the door off its very hinges and get to the girl to whom that voice belonged… hold that warm little body… kiss that sweet little mouth… show her- 

"Sir?" A voice echoed down the hall, snapping Erik out of his current state of mind. The masked man turned to see a guard standing a few feet away. "Sir, may I assist you?"

"What wing is this?" Erik asked, feigning ignorance.

"The Servant's wing, sir," the guard replied respectfully. "It is rare our Masters come down here. Is there something wrong?"

"I was merely interested in exploring my new home," Erik replied arrogantly. Truth be told, he much preferred these tunnels to what lay topside.

The masked man walked back down the hall and brushed his cape past the guard, not bothering to look back.

* * *

**Elsewhere**

With painful groans, Meg and Raoul slowly woke, quite aware they had landed on something that, while not entirely hard had not been all that soft either.

"Where are we?" Meg whispered into the darkness. "Raoul?"

"Yeah, I'm here…" came the answer.

A bright light suddenly went on above them, and the two found themselves on what appeared to be grass, surrounded by mirrors.

"What the hell?" Raoul gasped. The two exchanged frightened glances. "We need to get out of here!" he said, then jumped to his feet and helped Meg to hers. "Look for a door."

Meg nodded and went to each and every mirror, then cried out when she felt them start to heat up. "Can't touch it!"

The heat slowly began to fill the room that had been cold and dark only moments ago. "Wait! Get on your hands and knees! Feel around for some kind of breeze on the ground." Raoul suggested. "There _has _to be a door here somewhere!"

For several minutes, the two crawled around, moving as close to the hot mirrors as they dared. "BREEZE!" Meg cried out suddenly. "HERE!"

Raoul rushed too her and she indicated one of the mirrors. "We'll kick it!" Raoul suggested. The two then braced themselves on the ground, hands behind them to support themselves as their shoes smacked against the mirror. The glass shimmered and shook, but did not break.

"Getting so hot!" Meg cried out. "_Too_ hot!"

"Keep kicking!" he insisted. "Harder!"

"MEGAN GIRY!" a voice seemed to echo around them, coming from some sort of loud speaker. It sounded angry. Very angry.

Meg and Raoul froze, the light suddenly going out, the room cooling quickly.

They heard the sound of something opening, and felt a rush of cold air. Hands of different shapes and sizes grabbed at them, yanking them to their feet and pulling them out of the darkness into a dimly lit hallway, angry faces glaring at them, holding various weapons in their direction.

But perhaps the one face that frightened the two the most, the one face that looked angrier than anything either Meg or Raoul had ever seen, was the face of one Antoinette Giry.

* * *

**Servant's quarters – the next day**

"Busy busy day!" Sandy spoke as most of the Servant's quarters were emptied. "The Leader is introducing all his friends to his son. There is a hall full of 200 hungry… " a pause, "… whatever they are-s. It's not going to be pretty."

Christine nodded numbly. She had tried to sing several more songs the previous night, but Erik's voice had not answered her again.

She suddenly jumped as five guards burst into the room. "All of you upstairs!" the first one demanded, "If there are any caught staying behind, they will be punished." His eyes fell over Christine. "That includes YOU! You have been resting far too long!"

"This girl is still injured," Nadir replied. "She is in no condition to serve anyone,"

The guard backhanded Nadir across the face. "You will do as the Leader commands!"

Nadir's hand slipped into his pocket, his fingers wrapping around the sharpened wood in his coat. What he was about to do would be foolish, but hopefully it would get him out of the Servant's quarters and into the open.

With a leg sweep, he sent the guard who had slapped him to the ground, his stake hitting its target and turning the creature to dust.

Two other guards grabbed him on either side, dragging him out of the room harshly.

"NADIR!" Christine cried out as she hobbled to her feet and tried not to show the pain in her ankle. She caught his eyes before he was completely removed from the room, and understood.

Nadir knew what he was doing.

With a nervous breath, Christine followed the others out as they emptied the room, wondering what lay ahead at this great feast.

* * *

**Dinning Hall - Night**

Christine gingerly walked into the hall and stopped at the doorway. Sitting at the head of the table with the Leader on one side and Laura on the other was the man she had been looking for, his ebony hair tied back, neatly showing the sharp lines of his white mask.

The mask Christine had made for him after their first shopping trip.

"Erik," she gasped softly.

"So… he IS the one you've been so desperate to find," Verna replied as she came up beside Christine and saw the masked man she was staring at. "I don't think he's _yours_ any more, Christine. Come this way before the guards grow angry."

Verna then gently nudged Christine inside the room and handed her a small stack of plates, nodding that she should start with the Leader and his son. Christine nodded, and limply made her way up to the head of the table, carefully stepping around the cloak that flowed freely from the back of the chair Erik sat on.

"Damn it, do you have to show up everywhere?" Laura muttered as her eyes fell upon Christine. "SHAY! Get her out of her!"

Christine suddenly yelped as Erik reached out from behind and grabbed her, pulling her roughly into his lap and causing the plates to go flying and come to land in several pieces. Christine let out a cry as she felt her sore ankle twist uncomfortably.

Christine found herself speechless as she looked up to see Erik's amber eyes.

The darkness in them chilled her to the bone.

The masked man tangled his fingers in Christine's hair and forced his mouth against hers, roughly parting her lips and demanding the kiss to be far more intimate then she was expecting.

"She is MINE!" he growled at Laura when he broke his hold on Christine. The petite brunette tried to swallow a cry as she put a hand to her mouth.

That kiss had to be the coldest thing she had ever felt.

"She will make for a rather pleasurable night," Erik commented to those around him, ignoring the shock in Christine's blue eyes. He motioned for a female guard. "You are to take her straight to my bedchambers,"

He glanced at Christine once more, his eyes catching the low light, making them glow. "It is about time I made good use of you, angel!" Erik's words were met with lewd comments of encouragement and cheers from the others around the table.

Christine noticed Shay smirking and Laura frowning before the ballerina was roughly forced off Erik's lap by a female guard. Erik turned back to the others, ignoring his _angel_ as she was dragged out of the room.

* * *

**Elsewhere**

"What did you two think you were doing?" Giry demanded of her daughter and Raoul as they found themselves in a sitting room with various Hunters milling about. Weapons were no longer at the ready as it was obvious these two were no threat.

"We wanted to find out more, Mama. You were so secretive… and…. and with… Christine and Erik disappearing…" Meg sputtered, "we… we were … _worried_…"

"Why did you not simply come to ME with your concerns?" Giry demanded.

Meg frowned, "Would you have told me anything?" she asked. "You haven't told me MUCH so far…"

"There are things you do not need to know, Megan!" Giry scolded. "This is one of them!"

Meg jumped to her feet, angry now. "I don't need to know if my best friend is ok? If she's _alive_ even! You don't think that's _important_! You think I should be fine just waiting and worrying and pretending like everything is normal? Geez, mom!" she stomped an angry foot. "If Chrissy's well-being is something I don't need to know, then I'd hate to find out how you treat YOUR friends!" Meg suddenly slapped a hand to her mouth, shocked at her own words. She had never spoken to her mother in such a way before.

Giry closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her jaw clenched. She did not, however, retort in anger. "She went after Erik. Last we knew, she was fine." Giry replied calmly, then looked up from her seat to make eye contact with her daughter. "But unfortunately, our source has since lost track of her."

Meg furrowed her brow. "But… if she found Erik, then she should be alri-"

Giry's glare silenced Meg's words. "_Erik_," she snapped, "can no longer be trusted!"

**END OF EPISODE 30**


	31. Episode 31: Appearances

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir **_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

**Episode 31: Appearances **

By: Elektra

**Erik's Personal chambers**

Christine hugged a large bed-sheet around herself, finding the room cold as a draft came through the stone walls. She was in a large cavern of some sort. Erik's chambers, she realized. He had taken to living beneath the house.

_He seems to enjoy living underground_, she thought coolly.

The female guard had stripped Christine to her undergarments and told her to await the masked man's arrival. With much anger, she had ripped off the linens on his bed and wrapped them around her chilly body like a makeshift toga.

_What if he isn't my Erik any more?_ She worried. Even with his new attitude, he had never made her feel THAT cold.

Christine limped along the length of the room – only because she could not pace - then froze as she felt eyes staring at her from the doorway.

He had arrived.

She heard the click of the deadbolt, and hobbled around to bravely face whatever fate awaited her.

She didn't have to wait long.

"Are you a FOOL?" Erik growled loudly, his voice echoing in the large room. He took several quick strides towards Christine. She soon found herself against the wall, her ankle twisting with the sudden movement.

She refused to show the pain.

He put a hand on either side of Christine to prevent escape as his full height towered over her. His eyes held an anger she had never seen focused on her before. "If Shay had gotten hold of you, do you have ANY idea what punishment you would be suffering now?" he hissed.

"But-"

"ENOUGH!" Erik interrupted, hitting the stone wall hard, causing bits of dried mortar to fall with the force. "He would have enjoyed BREAKING you!"

Christine could not meet his angry eyes, instead staring at his shirt. It was far less threatening then his masked face right now.

Erik grabbed her chin with a gloved hand, forcing her to look back up at him. "Don't you understand, Christine? He would have _hurt _you by making you-" He could not continue, the image far too disturbing.

"Why did you come here?" he demanded quickly.

"To find you…" Christine replied, noticeably shivering. Though whether it was Erik's anger or the drafty room causing it, she wasn't sure.

He let out a harsh laugh. "I wasn't _worth _finding!" He tugged off his mask and leaned in close. "Do you want to know what I've been doing these last few weeks, Christine? _Killing_. Without mercy. The Leader wants to show his people _exactly _what kind of person I am!" he hissed.

His confession unsettled her. "Is that why you grabbed me?" Christine asked, hugging herself. "Were you trying to show _me_ what kind of person you were?"

He scoffed. "What did you expect me to do – let Laura get rid of you? Or would you have rather become Shay's plaything? I did not have many options, and I did not want to rouse suspicion!"

Christine understood now, and it made his behaviour less cold. "Erik…" her voice was soft, "that look in your eyes. It… it was so different."

"_That _is what I _am_, Christine," he answered quietly. "It is what you refuse to understand!"

He lowered his tone. "It's so easy to give in to the darkness, you know." He trailed his fingers down her neck, over her bare shoulder, tilting his head down, his mouth barely an inch from her skin. "The longer I am with the others, the more I become the one thing you could _never_-"

He suddenly stopped and turned away, heading to the dresser on the other side. "Cover yourself," he said, tossing her one of his shirts. "It is all I can offer you at the moment. In the morning, I will find something more suitable."

He glanced away and Christine slipped the shirt on over her undergarments. Erik turned to face her, and she saw the pain in his eyes.

"Oh Christine…" he groaned. "Why could you not just leave me in peace? Why did you have to remind me how much I _miss _you?" he quickly crossed the room and reached for her, but stopped himself before he touched her, stumbling back. "No! I cannot be _near _you! Don't you understand that?"

"Erik…" Christine reached a hand out to him.

"What do you want me to _do_, Christine? Be a good boy? I _cannot_!" he hissed. "Angel – do you have _any _idea the thoughts in my head right now?" he demanded, then let out a harsh laugh. "Oh I'm sure you do! It is probably why you dislike my new attitude!" He turned his back to her once more.

When he spoke again, he was despondent. "You _really _should not have come here." He threw the metal door open and stormed out, slamming it hard behind him.

Christine hobbled over to the bed and sunk down, hugging herself in the chill of the room – if it could even be called that. The walls were cold stone, the ground barely covered by a tattered throw rug.

She curled up on the bed and closed her eyes. _Why is he making this so difficult, daddy? _She swiped away the tear slipping down her cheek. _Why am I acting like a spoiled child? _

She was angry at herself, angry for still not telling him her feelings. No wonder Erik was fed up with her. He had every reason.

And she had no right to be crying about it…

She didn't even know anyone had entered the room until she felt the bed depress behind her. She turned her head to see Erik, masked but cloak-less, staring down at her, a heavy blanket in his hand.

"I figured you would be cold tonight." His voice was soft as he looked upon her wretched state, placing the blanket behind him. He tugged off his gloves and reached out to gently touch her little taped-up ankle. "I should re-do this for you…" he said.

Christine wasn't sure what had possessed her to suddenly crawl into his lap and curl against him. She just needed to be in contact with him.

She felt his arms slip around her, cradling her as his fingers stroked her hair.

Erik kissed away the tears on her face before his mouth tenderly found hers.

Her position shifted and she heard a low rumble in his chest at the movement, the feel of a hand caressing her bare thigh. She slid her own hand atop his, not to stop him but simply to touch him as the kiss grew firmer, more intense.

Erik immediately stopped his attentions.

He unclenched his free hand, causing Christine to gasp as she saw the bloody half-moons his nails had just made. "Damn it…" he hissed.

She gently took his hand, "Erik? Are you ok?"

He simply turned his head away from her. _My need for her is worse being in this place…_ Erik realized. _So much worse with HIM so close! I can feel him in my mind!_

Erik carefully slid Christine off his lap, unable to look at her, his voice barely above a whisper. "_Now _you understand why you should not have come here." He quickly stood and headed to the door. "Good night, Christine. I will see you in the morning…"

"Nadir!" Christine called out suddenly, causing Erik to halt his steps. "Erik - Nadir and I snuck in together! But… he was taken away earlier. I don't know what they did with him."

"I will find out. No doubt Shay will want to inform me about catching a Hunter." Erik's voice was coldly detached.

"Your _father_ isn't exactly the nicest guy."

Erik finally turned to her. "How did you-"

"The others told me," she said, then met his eyes. "I wish _you_ would have told me."

He glanced back to the doorknob. "At the time, I was worried it would turn you from me."

"You could have trusted me." She said.

"But that is just the thing, Christine. I am not _used_ to trusting people." He finally opened the door. "Least of all _myself_!"

Without another word, he stepped out of the room and disappeared into the darkness.

Christine glanced at the blanket he had brought, and the gloves that rested beside it. He had left them. She quickly slid them on, her own hands lost in the soft leather.

Clutching the blanket, she wrapped it tightly around her as she tried to make herself comfortable on the bed, wishing she had a warm ghost to hold her.

* * *

**Servant's quarters - the next morning**

Verna was the first to approach Christine when the girl finally returned to the Servant's quarters. "Are you hurt? Did he do anything to you?" she asked, ready for any physical assault Christine may have suffered. Verna then noticed the tattered t-shirt and ripped linen pants she was wearing.

It was all Erik could find that would allow Christine to walk down the hall with some semblance of modesty.

"Oh god! What happened?" Verna gasped.

"I'll be ok," Christine replied quietly.

"I'm so sorry, Christine." She spoke softly. "Let me see your ankle," Verna's asked.

"Um… it's a lot better," Christine began as she sat down.

Verna furrowed her brow, "What is this?" she asked as she studied the fresh tape around her ankle. "Did _he_ do this?"

Christine nodded and offered a small smile. "He hasn't forgotten me…" She then grew concerned. "But maybe it's better if you didn't tell anyone. People will wonder why he took care of me."

"Well it's obvious _why_. He didn't want damaged property." Verna replied with a wink.

Christine nodded. "Of course."

The last thing Christine wanted was people thinking Erik was some horrible creature who stolen the innocence of a young girl - considering the aforementioned girl still _had _her innocence - but if word got around that the Leader's son cared for her, she was quite sure all hell would break loose.

* * *

**Dean Giry's Office – three days later**

"Hello?" Giry answered her noisy cell phone. She tried not to show her surprise at the voice on the other line. "Yes, this she…" she paused. "You are the last person I expected to hear from. I didn't realize you had access to-" she was interrupted, "Ahh, I see. That is quite lucky for us then. Are you well? We have been rather concerned here… ahhh, good. Please, tell me what is going on. "

The voice continued on, putting Giry's mind at ease as it brought light to the latest events that had concerned the Guild. "Is that so now?" Giry replied. "And you are sure about this?" she waited for an answer. "It is a relief that things are not lost then…"

Suddenly there was a buzzing and crackling on the line. "You are breaking up… I am afraid I'm losing you… yes, please… contact me again when you can… hello? Hello?" Giry heard nothing but electronic beeping, followed by the tell-tale silence of a connection lost.

She only hoped the person on the other line had not come to harm.

* * *

**Recreation hall – that night**

"Why am I here?" Christine muttered quietly to Erik as they entered the recreation hall. He had given her a sleek black dress to wear. A dress that showed off just enough of her lithesome figure to incite stares, yet let her feel comfortable in doing so.

Well, as comfortable as a girl could feel in a room full of lusty males who may or may not be human.

"Remember that conversation about trust?" the masked man answered, and Christine realized now was not the time to talk to him as she would talk to her boyfriend. Now was the time to pretend to be nothing more then his… well, whatever it was she was expected to be.

"It seems you finally decided to take your female to bed," the Leader spoke as Erik sat on an elegant padded stool beside him. Laura sat upon Shay's knee, looking less then happy with the attention Erik was giving his little ingenue.

"I _did _enjoy her," Erik spoke. "She was _innocent_ our first night. It was incredibly exciting! She's a feisty one." Erik pulled Christine into his lap possessively, much to her surprise … but looking around at the others in the room, it seemed such public acts were normal behaviour.

"You don't know what you're missing." Laura sniffed, her nose in the air.

"Not much, apparently." Erik replied with a frown as he traced his fingers over Christine's revealed shoulder and down her bare arm. "Her ballet training actually makes her quite agile… especially when she arches her back… how wonderful it is!"

Christine had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from sputtering incoherently at the masked man's false tales, but she couldn't hide the embarrassed blush.

_He has quite an imagination, _Christine thought, …_and he can STOP telling stories any time now._

"Erik, I think you may find this of interest." Shay began. "It seems my guards have found one of your fellow Hunters. No doubt, he was the one who brought your lady here."

Erik's expression could not be seen beneath the mask.

"He's locked him in the dungeon for now," the Leader looked at his son. "I will leave his punishment up to you. Make it a good one."

"I am nothing if not creative." Erik smirked.

The Leader nodded. "Very well. Send your girl away and come with me,"

Christine was about to protest, but Erik tangled his fingers in her hair, tilting her head back as he silenced her with another cold, harsh kiss.

"Await me in my chambers. I will expect to see you there when I return!" His command was not to be disobeyed. Christine frowned, growing increasingly annoyed with his over-eager role-playing. He was quite good at being a perverted jerk when the situation called for it.

Erik slid her off his lap and stood up, following Shay out of the room.

As Christine headed off, she felt someone watching. She subtly glanced behind - only to see Laura herself, her shadowed and suspicious eyes following Christine's every move.

**END OF EPISODE 31**


	32. Episode 32: Protection

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir **_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

**Episode 32: Protection**

By: Elektra

Nadir studied the tall pacing man outside the bars that held him.

Erik's golden eyes were practically glowing beneath his stark-white mask as they caught the light from the torches that lined the wall. "You have gotten yourself in quite a mess, detective…" Erik frowned. "And you have dragged Christine with you!"

"She was the one who dragged _me_, actually. She would have come whether I had followed or not. Of course, had I NOT followed, she would most likely be dead as well," Nadir answered.

Erik scoffed at that.

"She is almost as stubborn as _you,_ Erik. You need a woman like that." Nadir smirked. Erik did not look amused. Nadir let out a sigh. "Your Christine did not want to be without you, Allah knows why…" the Guild detective glanced up at the ceiling as if expecting an answer.

"She should not have followed me!" Erik growled.

"You should not have left her." Nadir pointed out.

"She is safer without me."

"She is _miserable_ without you, Erik!" Nadir snapped. "You claim to love her so… yet you left the poor girl weeping for you!"

"What was I supposed to DO, old man?" Erik shouted as he spun around. "Drag my angel into Hell with me?"

"If you were so worried about her safety, you SHOULD have stayed beside her."

Erik scowled. "You speak too freely for one whose life I hold in my hands!" he warned.

Nadir held his arms out. "Then do with me what you will, for I am obviously at your mercy. Somehow, though… I do not believe you will so easily throw me to the Leader…"

Erik narrowed his eyes, "Really, Nadir - you have no _idea_ what I would do."

* * *

**Main Corridors**

Christine slowly headed towards Erik's room, just as he had _commanded_. She would play along, for now. But if he thought to continue this once they left Laramie, then she would give him what-for.

Lost in her thoughts, Christine froze when she heard a cry echoing down the torch-lit hall. She quickly headed towards it, diverting from her path.

She stopped when she came upon Karra, currently cornered by one of the Leader's guards. No doubt the one that she had once mentioned giving her a hard time.

"Hey there," Christine started with false cheer. "Am I interrupting something?"

The guard turned to Christine, startled by the interruption. "Go away!"

Christine pretended to think about the request, then answered. "I need to talk to my friend. 'scuse us." She said.

She reached out and tugged Karra away from the guard, pulling the girl behind her as the two hurried down the hall.

Once Christine had safely gotten Karra back to the servant quarters, the girl threw her arms around Christine 's neck, repeatedly thanking her.

She had since calmed Karra down and the girl had finally made herself comfortable under her covers, a protective Jason bringing his own cot beside her. Christine sat in front of the two and smiled.

Young love was so cute sometimes…

Before she could tease Karra and Jason about their relationship, the door to the room burst open. Karra's obsessive guard entered angrily with such a fierce expression on his face that several children ran into the arms of their parents.

Karra sat up, hugging her sheets tightly around her, her face pale with fear.

The guard glared at Christine. "Get away from her!"

"If you want to get to the girl, you'll have to go through ME first," Christine answered with courage she did not feel. "And I doubt Erik would appreciate you doing that!"

Well, it sounded good at the time.

The guard stalked up to Christine, glowering down at her in an attempt at intimidation. Christine stood her ground, however.

"Where the hell is she!" Another angry voice echoed off the walls. The servants' eyes went wide, children and adults whimpering fearfully at the second fearsome man who had entered the room in a rage.

The masked man scanned the room, his golden eyes full of anger. He then saw the guard hovering over the petite ballerina. "YOU!" he hissed, "Are you daring to touch my female?"

The guard spun around and quickly prostrated himself before the Leader's son. "No, sir! Nothing of the sort! It is the one she is _protecting _that I-"

"You are standing too close to what is _mine_!" Erik interrupted. "Surely you know the rules!"

"Yes… yes, sir! But that is not-"

"Get away from her!" Erik roared, not tolerating any explanations.

The guard slowly stepped away from the two girls. Erik turned his attentions to Christine, who continued to comfort a frightened Karra.

It didn't take long for Erik to assess the situation, and the way the guard was staring at the teenager Christine was so desperately protecting.

"I do not like the direction you are looking in which you are looking!" Erik hissed at the guard. "From here on in, you are to stay away from this area and neither LOOK at my woman, nor associate with any who live with her!"

The guard turned to face Erik, his eyes desperate. "But sir, it was not _your _female that I-"

Before he could say more, a flick of Erik's wrist sent his rope around the guard's neck. "Are you refusing my order?" the masked man growled, eyes practically glowing.

The rope was tugged hard, yanking the guard off his feet. The guard attempted to plead for understanding as Erik advanced on him, but his words were garbled.

The pleading was cut off as the masked man pressed a knee into the downed creature's chest. "You annoy me!" Erik pulled a stake from beneath his cloak, impaling the guard and turning it to dust.

The angry masked man then turned around to face Christine. "You. COME!" His voice barely concealed his rage.

Christine was frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. Was it possible to love a man and fear him at the same time? Erik would never harm her, she knew that. In fact, he had done everything in his power to _protect_ her. But while his current behaviour was, in fact, brought on by his role-playing, the anger behind it was very real.

Before Christine could take a step forward, Erik rushed at her and grabbed her. "You did not follow my command!" he hissed with great anger.

"I… I couldn't… Karra needed-"

"Do not EXPLAIN!" he growled, causing Christine to wince at the loudness of his voice, "You were told to be with _me _tonight! We will DISCUSS how one must listen to her teacher!" Without another word, he threw a struggling Christine over his shoulder and headed out of the room.

* * *

**Ravelle Residence**

Meg stared at the English text before her. She couldn't concentrate, having been sick with worry over Christine this last week. What she needed was something to distract her.

She quickly grabbed her phone, "Hey, RJ..." she began quietly. "do you want to go to a movie or something? I need to get my mind off some stuff..." She paused as she waited for his answer, "No, RJ. Just a movie. I'm really not in the mood to-" he interrupted her.

She grew angry. "Can't we just have a nice normal date? You know, just us with our clothing ON?" she demanded. "Is that something so alien to you that you can't possibly imagine it? I need someone to talk to right now, RJ. Not someone to sleep with!"

She shook her head at the response she received. "Forget it. I don't know why I bother with you anymore." She quickly hung the phone up and buried her head in her hands.

Moments later, the phone rang again, "RJ, I said-" she suddenly stopped as she realized the caller was not her useless boyfriend, "Raoul! I'm sorry..." a pause, "No, I haven't heard anything. I don't know any more than you do."

Meg was silent for a moment, then spoke again, "Raoul, would you be up for going to a movie?"

* * *

**Erik's Chambers**

Erik locked the door behind him and tossed Christine on the bed.

The brunette looked up at him, eyes wide. His temper tantrum had been far too convincing… and the way he was looking at her now caused Christine to slide away until the backboard stopped her from moving any further.

He glared at her for several moments, his breathing harsh and quick. "How DARE you!" he hissed as he tugged off his mask and tossed it aside.

"How dare I… _what?_" Christine snapped as she jumped to her feet. "How dare I _help _someone! Erik… you know I couldn't just _leave _her to that _thing_. So don't you stand here and ask me how I DARE disobey your-"

He suddenly grabbed Christine 's face and pressed his mouth against hers… but broke the kiss as quickly as he had begun it.

"You're really _pushing _me!" he growled, then shoved himself away and sat on the bed, his cloak spilling out behind him.

Erik closed his eyes, his breathing deep and slow, his body perfectly still.

"Erik?" He didn't acknowledge her. Christine waited in silence for several moments, but when her angel of music still did not move, she had to speak. "Thank you for what you did. Karra will be ok now…"

"It was not HER that had me searching the building to bottom!" he snapped as his eyes flew open.

Christine blinked at that. He had truly thought something had happened to her when she didn't show up in his room. This realization struck Christine silent for a moment.

He hadn't been _angry_ when he burst into the servant's quarters, he had been _afraid_!

The petite girl sat down beside him and rested her head against his shoulder. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, calming his temper as he slid an arm around her.

"I spoke to our captive tonight," Erik began, and Christine understood he meant Nadir. "I am still expected to pick out his punishment. I have thought of something rather creative."

Before he could continue, a draft seeped into the room, blowing out the torches on the wall and leaving everything in utter darkness. She jumped to her feet as goose-bumps rose on her arms and something cold brushed against as much of her body as it could, causing Christine to stumble back.

She instinctively reached out for a familiar gloved hand, entwining her fingers with soft leather as several dark whispers began to fill Erik's bedchambers.

They weren't alone.

"I hate the dark." Christine whispered.

"Who is here?" Erik demanded angrily. "Who dares enter my chambers without permission?"

Christine felt the frigid air before her and struck out with her free hand. Her fingers went through an icy void and came back practically numb.

Finally, the noise became too much. "GO AWAY!" Christine screamed as her fisted hand sunk angrily into the void, dissipating the cold and silencing the whispers.

A few seconds later, the torches flamed up once again, filling the chamber with their familiar orange glow.

"What the HELL is happening here?" Erik hissed angrily.

"I don't know," was the only answer Christine could offer, her soft shaky voice a contrast to the harsh anger in his.

"Who was in here!" he demanded, then began to storm towards the door. Christine immediately reached out and grabbed Erik's wrist before his dark rage led him into whatever trap had been set.

"Let GO!" he demanded as he tried to tug his arm away. Christine refused to release her hold.

"It's probably a trap, Erik," Christine replied.

"I have a few traps of my own!" he growled.

"Stay here!" she insisted.

He glared down at her, an angry glow in his eyes. "Why?"

"Because," Christine slid her arms around his waist, resting her head against him. "I'm a lot friendlier then whoever is waiting for you."

Her embrace sent a gentle warmth through his body. And really, how could a man stay enraged when he was in the embrace of the one he loved? Contact with Christine always seemed to calm his foul moods.

"Very well." He relented. "But tomorrow, I will find out what this was about." Erik stepped away from her and shrugged off his cloak. "Take this if you want. It will keep you warm."

"You're not staying?" she asked as she took the cloak and sat on the bed.

"That would be a very bad idea. You know that."

"Can't you… _behave_… for one night?" she asked as she glanced up at him. She looked so lost and lonely. It nearly broke his heart.

Erik sat down beside her and took a deep breath. "Would you really _trust_ me to behave?"

"I'd trust you with a lot of things." she replied softly, tugging the cloak tightly around her.

"Funny, because I trust myself with _nothing_. Let alone with _you_."

She reached up and placed a soft kiss on his skeletal cheek. "I'll just smack you if you misbehave," she replied with a small smile.

He raised an eyebrow. "And what if I _like_ being smacked by you?"

"Then I'll kick you somewhere tender," she threatened.

He winced at the thought. He was quite sure she'd follow through on her threat.

"Very well," he sighed. "For propriety's sake, though, I shall remain ABOVE the blankets, with you tucked beneath them… with my cloak wrapped around you. That way I won't have easy access."

Christine smiled as she slid beneath the blankets. "Good night, Erik…" she whispered softly as she rested her head against his chest.

"Good night, Christine," he replied.

She smiled in response, sleep taking her shortly after.

Erik closed his eyes and released a low breath. How he wanted to rip those sheets away from her and … _Stop._ He scolded himself. _When she is ready, she will be yours._

Sometimes Erik wondered if Christine remembered he was not only _male_, but for over thirty years, he had been a very _lonely _male.

_What do you want from me, Christine?_ he wondered. He could see the emotions in her eyes, could feel it whenever she touched him… but didn't she know that a man such as himself only had so much control? And even less now that Shay had played games with his mind.

Erik only hoped he could continue to fight.

**END OF EPISODE 32**


	33. Episode 33: Death Becomes Her

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir **_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

**Episode 33: Death Becomes Her**

By: Elektra

**Servant's quarters**

Christine stepped through the door of the Servant quarters to see Laura waiting for her. She froze in her steps. "Is something wrong?" Christine asked, noticing Laura's confrontational glare.

"Did you have a good night?" Laura spoke snidely.

"It was fine, thank you…" Christine replied, eyes narrowed.

"He let you sleep? I would think a man like Erik would be in a rather passionate mood after the display of anger I heard he showed last night."

"Well, of course he was…" she said quickly.

Laura let out a snort. "Please spare me. I know better. I don't understand why he puts up with you!"

"He loves me," Christine answered.

Laura scowled. "How very disgusting. Really." She shook her head. "What a waste!"

"What is it, Laura?" Christine asked with a sigh. "What do you want from me?"

"You know what – _who _- I want!" Laura snapped. " _I_ am the experienced one! I'm the one female every creature here desires!" Laura then lowered her voice, angry. "And YOU? YOU'RE only talent is that _voice_! How could ANY man be attracted to you?"

Laura narrowed her eyes, a cold smile on her lips. "Shay has discovered how his son treats you in private. How he talks to you, protects you. How he behaves himself when he is with you. He is very disappointed. He truly thought his son would not make himself such a fool for a woman." She let out a chuckle. "It was _Shay _last night,"

Christine furrowed her brow. "What?"

"In Erik's bedchambers. He wanted to frighten you. Scare you. Wanted to see what Erik would do. Wanted to see if his suspicions were right,"

Laura smirked. "Shay wants to _hurt _you. As do I! Last night, he tried to lure his son away… to get Erik to leave your side for just a moment! He figured any real man would come searching for the one who invaded his privacy,"

Christine hugged herself. "I stopped Erik from going… but I thought the trap was set for _him_. I didn't realize it was for _me,_"

"Shay has been gloating to his people about Erik. You are ruining things for him. Making Erik weak! And I swear, little girl, I will make you PAY for that!" Laura threatened, then turned on her heel and headed out of the room.

Once she was sure Laura was gone, Christine went to Erik's duster – still by her cot, untouched – and grabbed his cell phone. She turned it on and checked reception.

There was nothing.

Christine walked around the cavern, holding the phone out to see even just one line appear. Finally, she found a spot, though the line was flickering dangerously. She quickly went through the electronic phone book to find the number she had called once before, and waited for an answer.

Christine spoke in a rush once the familiar voice picked up.

"Madame Giry! It's Christine again…"

* * *

**Laramie Drive - Back lot (three nights later) **

Christine peered out from the large cloak she was hiding under, seeing everyone gathered outside to watch Nadir's execution. The plan had been set.

Nadir would not die tonight.

Erik had thought of a plan. And it would work.

Behind the rapt audience, no one saw the young girl leading several others out of the sewage tunnel Erik had found a few days prior. It was a passage beneath the building, one of many among the labyrinth that lay under the house.

It seemed the Guards were so very interested in the proceedings that they arrogantly thought to take their attention momentarily away from their charges.

_Are they out?_ A voice seemed to speak in Christine's head, though she knew better. Erik was using his uncanny ability to throw his voice once again.

She nodded as herself and the others sank into the shadows, glancing around to see the source of the voice. She could not find it.

Christine had grown worried when Erik had missed their rendezvous in front of the servant's quarters an hour ago. He had finally arrived twenty minutes late, a little worse for wear, explaining that had run into some unfortunate company on the way out, and the escape plan was put into motion.

Christine knew if Erik was alive and well, then his _unfortunate company _was NOT. Were they human or otherwise? She did not know. She did not WANT to know. She was only glad she didn't have to see what had become of them.

Perhaps she was fooling herself, believing if she didn't see Erik kill, then he didn't do it.

It was easier then admitting the truth.

* * *

Laura and Shay watched as Nadir was forced onto a large box, a noose tightened about his neck. 

"Have you seen my son?" Shay questioned the female beside him as the two watched over the proceedings.

Laura shook her head. "No, Shay," then smiled to herself. She was quite sure her guards had taken care of the man. If all was well, he would be waiting for her in her bedroom when this was over, whether willingly or otherwise.

The Leader lifted his hand, and the box was kicked out from under Nadir.

Suddenly the voice of either an angel or a ghost rose up and filled the area. No one knew where it was coming from. Was it the left? Or the right? No, behind them now. No, in front of them. Now in their heads!

The distraction was useful as the noose around Nadir's neck was snapped easily by strong hands sneaking out from a covered cloak, arms shooting out to catch the man before he was able to fall.

Nadir was thrown over a firm shoulder, the shadowy form running towards a wooded area that surrounded the large home.

When those observing had finally come to their senses, their prisoner was gone.

* * *

**20 minutes later**

Erik dropped Nadir to the ground, noticeably winded. "Really, Khan! You need to cut down on the chocolate!"

Nadir looked up at him. "Cheery as always, hmmm, Erik?" He then grew concerned. "Where is your lady?"

"Waiting for us. We had a bit of an escape plan. Seems the girl was finally able to get reception on my cell phone and made use of it. You will find the Hunters have set up a nice little camp a short way from here. No doubt they are tending to the others."

"Very well then. Lead the way,"

* * *

**Elsewhere **

Christine sat by a warm fire, surrounded by Erik, Nadir, Giry, Firmin, Andre, and several other Hunters. Those that did not know her eyed her with curious interest, no doubt having heard rumours of the girl who had won the heart of their cold-blooded Executioner.

She had arrived at the campsite a few hours earlier with Shay's so-called _servants_, who had then been sent off on buses the Hunters had brought to the rendezvous spot. They would be tended to elsewhere and sent home safe and sound.

On Christine's left, another Hunter… Joseph Buquet as she recalled… leaned towards her and made a great show of smelling her hair. Christine glared at him, unimpressed. "Don't _sniff_ me!"

"Stop me," the scruffy hygiene-challenged man taunted slyly.

"Ripping your nose from your face would stop you, would it not?" Erik hissed as he glanced up from his skewered meat.

"Is the Executioner challenging me to a fight?" Buquet asked. "I've always wanted to face you one-on-one. Everyone talks 'bout how great you are, how you kill without mercy. How you like to-"

"ENOUGH, Buquet!" Giry spoke up, glancing at Christine, who seemed slightly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. "Erik is defending his young lady. You would do well to find your OWN lady to defend!"

Buquet laughed harshly. "That'd mean I'd have to make some kind of commitment."

"So…?" Christine asked. "You never want to get married and have a family?"

He laughed again at that. "Oh, it seems the great Executioner found himself one a wee bit young!"

Christine frowned. "I'm twenty!"

This caused Buquet to howl and clutch at his stomach with great mirth. He dabbed at the tears of laughter that slid from his eyes and slowly calmed down. "Ah well. 'least she's legal."

"Buquet," Nadir began, then he tilted his head and studied the other Hunter. "Surely you have better things to do than tease people?" he asked. Nadir indicated a tent a few feet away. "Perhaps you should get some sleep, no?"

Buquet glared at the Guild's detective, then frowned angrily in Christine's direction before climbing to his feet and heading into his shelter.

"He had better not attempt to visit Christine in the middle of the night!" Erik hissed as he watched Buquet disappear into his tent.

Christine paled at that. "Who am I staying with tonight? And can they give him a good kick if he needs it?"

Giry offered a polite smile. "You will stay with _me_." she indicated her tent. "And while I may have some trouble kicking Buquet, I am quite adept at rapping my cane on his head."

After another half-hour of talk, the other hunters slowly headed off to their tents, leaving

only Christine, Erik, Giry, Firmin, and Nadir.

"We should get some sleep as well," Erik spoke up as he noticed Christine yawning. She was currently leaning against his chest, sitting between his upraised knees as the dwindling group sat around the dying fire.

He slid out from behind her and stood up, assisting the girl to her feet. "Good night,angel." He kissed her cheek once, then began to walk off.

Christine furrowed her brow. After his recent behaviour, a peck on the cheek seemed far too tame. It seemed, in fact, more like the old Erik who had run away the first time she had kissed him.

She did not want to go back to that.

Christine quickly rushed after him before he could duck away and kissed him the way a girl would kiss her boyfriend, leaving the others to talk amongst themselves.

Firmin leaned closer to the fire. "What is to be done about the Leader? Shall we leave him to Erik?" he asked.

Giry and Nadir looked back and forth between each other. "I suppose we will have to see what happens in the next few days. For all we know, he may be gone by the time we get there," Nadir answered.

Firmin nodded. "I have never planned a raid quite such as this before…" he began. "I am feeling somewhat nervous about it."

"Richard, you and I will be staying behind with Christine," Giry explained. "We will be getting the medical supplies and what not ready. It is the younger Hunters led by Nadir who will be participating in this attack, you understand."

Firmin pouted. "But…" he stopped and sighed. "I suppose you are right, Antoinette. We are not as fast and strong as we used to be." He then stood up. "Ah well, I suppose us older folk must turn into bed now." He smiled, then headed off to the tent he was to share with Nadir.

"I should go as well," Giry said. "Tell Christine I will be waiting in the tent when she wishes to come to bed." With a polite nod from Nadir, she headed off.

Christine returned a few moments later and sat at the fire. "Everyone went to sleep?" she asked.

"Yes. Giry will be waiting for you in her tent." Nadir informed the girl. He studied her a moment, then spoke again. "If I may ask a personal question, my dear," he began. "How do you feel towards our Erik?"

Christine was taken aback for a moment. "How? I…" she paused, knowing full well how she felt. A small blush crept upon her cheeks. "I…" she took a deep breath. It was time to admit it.

Christine's voice grew quiet, her words barely audible save for the fact Nadir was listening closely to them. "I love him, Mr. Khan."

He let out a soft warm chuckle. "It is about time someone did then."

Christine looked up at him and smiled. "I call him my _angel of music_," she let out a small laugh, "though for an angel, he's made his… uh… _not-so-angelic _intentions quite obvious."

The smile slowly faded. "Not that it worries me. It's normal. But… there are times when he scares me. His mood swings…" she stopped and shook her head. "Never mind. That's something we have to work out," she explained.

Nadir understood. "Erik scares _everyone_ with his mood swings," he replied with a wink. "It is just something we must accept."

"I know," Christine said. She glanced back up at the Guild detective. "I should get to sleep." She stood up and brushed her pants off, then stopped and turned back to him. "I haven't told him yet, Mr. Khan …" she paused a moment. "Please don't say anything? I should be the one to let him know."

"I understand, my dear. He will hear nothing from me."

"Thank you." She offered a small smile, a quick wave, and headed off.

Nadir soon climbed to his feet and headed off to his own tent, relieved to see that Erik had finally found the one thing he had always been looking for – love and acceptance.

Now if only the girl could find the courage to show him.

* * *

**Laramie Drive - The next morning**

"Where is my SON?" the Leader demanded of Laura as he stormed into her bedroom. "I have not seen him all day, nor did I see him last night."

"We have several guards looking for them, Shay," Laura explained with a frown. It seemed Erik had not been deterred by the men she had sent after him. She was rather unhappy to return from her room and find it lacking one tied-up masked man. "He ran off with that Hunter!"

"Impossible! He would not have betrayed me!"

Laura let out a snort. "Right. Of course he wouldn't. And I suppose it's no coincidence that all your servant's are gone, and so is that girl Erik seemed so fond of!" Laura glared at the Leader before her. The fool could be so blind sometimes. "Do you _honestly_ think Erik would have _joined _you?"

"This conversation is OVER, Laura!" The Leader roared angrily. "FIND Nadir and my heir!"

Laura clenched her jaw, holding back the anger she wanted to throw at him. With a sweep of her skirts, Laura headed out of her room to tend to the search.

* * *

**Elsewhere – early evening**

"The least noticeable route to the house is beyond the river," Nadir began as he led Christine, Erik, and the Hunters towards a clearing not far from where they stood. "We will set up camp there for the night. When we begin the raid, a few will stay behind to set up medical supplies and whatnot."

The plan would take two days to reach full speed, giving them the night to rest. But it was better to spend time on an alternate route then be seen rushing the house, Nadir had decided. The others could not disagree with him.

As they walked towards the soon-to-be campsite, Christine kept a firm grip on Erik's arm. The last thing she needed was to fall in the underbrush and break a bone or two on the rough terrain.

She gently tugged on the sleeve of his duster - which he had once again taken ownership of. "Buquet has been staring at me all the way here," she whispered, "And it's really disturbing. He's got this weird look in his eyes,"

The masked hunter glanced back and saw indeed, that Buquet had not taken his attention off the petite ballerina. Erik was not very fond of the looks the other hunter was giving her. "Why are you eyeing Christine as if she were a meal?" he demanded angrily.

Buquet offered a cold smirk. "The night's gonna be cold. I want someone to keep me warm!"

"She will be sharing _my_ tent, Joseph, not yours." Giry spoke up, lips pursed as she focused her cold gaze on Buquet.

Erik growled, his golden eyes flashing with anger. Christine quickly grasped his arm, restraining him from attacking the other hunter.

"I'm surprised she's not keeping the _Executioner _company tonight." Buquet smirked. "Or hasn't she let you have your naughty way with her yet?"

In a flash of black velvet and white mask, Erik pinned Buquet against a tree, his rope tight around the man's neck. "I'll… take that… as… a … _no_…." he gasped. "May…be…she… don't… like… fr-freaks…"

"_Freaks_?" Erik roared. "As if YOU have any right to call ME a FREAK?"

Buquet looked back at Erik, his hands clutching at the lasso. "Does she … have _any _idea … how many…. You… you've killed with… with this…. ?" He choked. "Or… did you fail to… mention that…?"

Erik tightened his grip, his rope drawing blood from Buquet's flesh

"ERIK!" Christine cried out. "STOP!"

The masked man glanced at Christine, then back at the man gasping for breath.

He pulled the rope off and threw Buquet to the ground, his voice a dangerous growl, "Be lucky Nadir needs all his people for the upcoming raid, or else I would gladly deal with you _right here_, _right now_!"

Buquet let out an angry snort as he put a hand to his injured neck and turned to Christine. "I can't figure out why you'd ever want a man like this!" He looked disgusted as he climbed to his feet. "He'll end up killing you if you piss him off!"

"Joseph! Enough now!" Nadir snapped.

The other hunters seemed rather disturbed by the Executioner's behaviour, but did not dare speak on the matter.

Christine stared dumfounded at them. "Oh for God's sake! He's not going to _kill _me!" she snapped, the slowly glanced back at Erik.

For a moment, he was sure he saw a hint of fear in her eyes. He immediately cursed his behaviour.

"Well," Nadir raised his voice and broke the uncomfortable silence. "Now that we have finished our little show," he glared at Erik and Buquet, then turned back to the rest of the group. "We have other matters to attend to."

Nadir walked up to Erik, who had since rejoined Christine. "I know you do not play well with others, Erik. But you must put aside your anger and work with us here!"

"Since when is my personal life _Buquet's _concern?" he hissed.

"It is not." Nadir said. "But do not let him get to you. You must keep your wits about you when we face the Leader."

Erik nodded and Nadir turned his attentions back to the large group, his voice loud and commanding. "Hurry now. We must make the campsite by nightfall, or we shall freeze tonight,"

The small hunter army quickly headed to the clearing and immediately set about pitching tents and starting fires

* * *

**Laramie Drive – Shay's bedchambers (two nights later)**

The sounds of fighting awoke the Leader from his slumber, an ominous feeling filling him. He stormed out of his room only to trip over a large pile of dust outside his door - what was left of his personal guards.

"Nadir's men leave quite a mess, don't they?" a familiar voice spoke, sending a chill down Shay's spine.

The Leader slowly turned to face the young hunter behind him. "How could you do this?" he hissed angrily.

"I told you, it was _Nadir's _men, not _me_," the masked hunter smiled coldly, his black velvet duster fluttering out behind him. "I saved all my energy for YOU… _Father_…"

The Leader rushed at his son, knocking the younger man to the ground and wrapping his hands around his throat.

With a knee to the gut, the Leader found himself doubled over. Shay quickly regained his breath and rushed outside… only to find his guards defeated, and his people surrounded by Nadir's men. Startled by this new development, he didn't see the blur of black and white grab him from behind, locking his head in a vice grip.

"Go back to where you came from!" Erik demanded.

Shay reached back and threw Erik across the back lot - the Leader was nothing if not resilient.

He then rushed at his heir, ripping the very mask from Erik's face.

The horrified response of the Hunters in attendance was muted. All Erik could hear was blood rushing through his veins. The rage and anger of being unmasked before so many people boiled up inside him.

He was going to explode, and there was nothing Shay would be able to do about it.

"_I should not have expected my freak of a child to be smart enough to stay by my side!_" Shay roared in Erik's head. "_I should have figured you had more of your mother's blood in you then it seemed!_"

"My blood is my own! Neither yours nor hers!" Erik replied, grasping Shay by the neck and slamming his head against the stone wall of the house.

Whipping out his rope, Erik wrapped it tight around Shay's throat, yanking his father to the ground as he dug a knee in his midsection and pinned the man beneath him.

"NEVER. Touch. My. MASK!" He roared angrily.

"What …was your … pretty girlfriend's re…reaction upon see…ing your face, Erik?" Shay choked out, trying everything he could to get Erik to drop his guard.

Shay truly worried Erik would kill him. After all, even a creature such as himself needed air to breathe.

Erik's golden eyes flickered, the hand reaching to grab the mask from Shay's fingers halted. "What does SHE have to do with this?"

The Leader desperately dug his fingers between the rope and his neck as he tried to take oxygen into his constricted throat. "Nothing… she… she WILL… have nothing… to… do with this… soon enough. I… I am … currently … taking care of her … as we speak." He paused. "Or … sh-should I say… _Laura…_ is?"

That was all Erik needed to hear.

Mask forgotten, Erik tugged his rope off Shay's neck and jumped to his feet, running desperately back to the campsite.

* * *

**Hunter's Campsite**

Christine was seeing stars. Or was that spots? It was hard to tell when one was having the life choked out of her.

Sharp nails dug into her neck and she could feel the trickle of blood from torn skin. She clawed at Laura's hands desperately, but Laura's grip never faltered, her rage taking over. She grew high on Christine's fear, squeezed even harder to feed off it.

The Hunters left behind currently had their hands full dealing with the Leader's lackeys. Any who tried to assist Christine were immediately deterred.

Laura cared nothing about the others as the desire to rip Christine's head from her little body grew almost impossible to ignore, her fangs bared, her face distorted in an ugly snarl.

Christine's breath was leaving her. Is this what death felt like? She could not compete with Laura's inhuman strength. It was impossible

"Er…ik…" Christine squeaked out desperately.

"I'll take good care of him!" Laura hissed.

Everything was fading around Christine. Light. Darkness. They seemed to blur together now.

Christine then saw Death's face.

He was running towards her, holding something aloft. Something sharp and wooden.

Was this to be Christine's fate?

The darkness took over before she could find the answer.

* * *

**15 seconds later**

Erik knelt beside the girl laying motionless on the ground, her body covered by a fine film of white dust.

"Christine?" He gasped quietly, cradling her in his arms. "Little angel? Please. Please be ok…"

"Erik…" that was Giry's voice, but he could not be bothered to look at her. The woman, for her part, was trying not to look at _him_ either.

Giry did not want to know what had happened to Erik's mask… but now, for the first time, she was witness to what lay beneath it – and she could hardly bear it. Christine must indeed be a compassionate girl. There was no question as to why Erik loved her so.

"Erik…" Giry repeated as she knelt on the other side of Christine, taking the girl's wrist between her fingers. "She is still alive. But weak. We need to tend to her." She replied, keeping her gaze focused on Christine's pale face instead of Erik's hideous one as she brushed the dust off the girl's body.

Giry knew she had to save Christine. Not only because she cared for the girl like her own, but because if Erik's little _angel _died, the darkness that would take her place in his heart would not only consume him, but put everyone else at risk of his questionable hold on sanity.

"If you had staked Laura a moment later, Christine would have been lost." Giry spoke softly, but Erik did not seem concerned about who and what he had killed to save the girl in his arms.

Giry knew it would come back to haunt him soon enough.

"Make her better." Erik finally said, his heartbreaking voice sounding more like that of a child as he allowed the other Hunters to take the girl from his arms. "Please make my angel better…"

Watching as Christine was carried off, Erik did not even bother to cover his face, nor did he seem to notice that the others were doing all they could to avoid looking at him.

It didn't matter.

_Nothing _mattered.

Erik was completely and utterly numb.

**END OF EPISODE 33**


	34. Episode 34: Complete

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir **_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

**Episode 34: Complete**

By: Elektra

The body that lay beneath the sheet at Police Commander Gus Leroux's feet had bothered him greatly as he read the report in his hands.

_**Homicide **_

_**Victim: Unidentified Female. Small stature. Blue eyes, brown hair. **_

_**Reported by Police officer Colin Lennox. **_

_**Jane Doe was found near 24th Avenue and Cunning about 1:26am. Signs of a struggle. Cause of Death: Early signs of strangulation. Time of death approximately 15-20 hours previous to discovery. **_

Leroux's thoughts went back to a conversation he had had with Madame Giry. She had been expressing concern in regards to Erik's behaviour as of late.

But surely this was not the work of the Executioner!

_You are not the least bit concerned that the Leader may have a hand in his new attitude?_

He remembered Giry's words.

Was it possible? It was bad enough that the creature was the boy's father.

Perhaps he should get someone to keep a closer eye on Erik.

For everyone's sake.

* * *

**One hour later**

_Erik saw the scene before him – his angel having the very life choked out of her little body by Laura's hands. _

_He could not think. Could not focus. All he knew was rage. Hatred. _

_And fear. _

_Fear that he would be too late. Fear that he would lose the one thing that meant so very much to him. _

_His arm moved on instinct. _

_Laura turned her head, meeting his eyes for only a moment before she fell to dust atop Christine. _

_That was it. _

_He had finished what he started. _

Erik woke up and raked a hand through his ebony hair, feeling it fall lightly against his shoulders.

_Christine…_

It had been a week since the incident with Laura. He had seen very little of his angel, giving her time to recover from the shock of it all.

Or perhaps time to forgive him for putting her in such a situation in the first place.

If he had dusted Laura when he first knew what she had become, it all could have been prevented.

Erik buried his face in his hands, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. It would not have mattered if he rid himself of Laura. There was still the Leader to tend to.

_My father…_

Erik had been berating himself all week for letting Shay get away. For not killing him then and there.

For hesitating.

But then, if he had killed the man immediately, he would not have known about Christine's predicament, and he would not have arrived on time to help her.

_I could have lost her forever…_

Erik glanced up at the air ducts.

He needed to see her, even though he was quite sure she would be asleep at this time.

He only hoped Christine didn't hate him…

* * *

**Christine's Dorm**

Christine lay in her bed attempting to read the book in her hands. Meg was with RJ, making good use of her Friday night – or Saturday morning, depending on one's perspective, and Christine was feeling horribly alone at the moment, unable to sleep.

She had seen Erik lurking about these last few days - well aware that a moving shadow was often more then just a shadow – but he had not come to speak with her.

After removing her glasses to massage the bridge of her nose, Christine put the book down and slid out from under the blankets. She shivered slightly in the cotton cami and boy shorts she had chosen to sleep in, knowing it had been the wrong choice in sleepwear for the chilly first week of December.

Restlessly, Christine headed to her dresser to pull out something warmer, briefly wondering if Erik blamed her for unintentionally forcing his hand with Laura.

"_Are you alone_?" A voice suddenly spoke as if it were beside her.

Christine spun around eagerly, her search for warmer clothing forgotten. "Erik? Yes! Meg's gone for the night." There was a moment of silence, then Erik's form dropped gracefully down from the air ducts.

He shrugged off his duster and went to sit at the chair by her desk, simply staring at her.

"Best to keep your distance," he began coldly as she started to walk towards him. "It seems whenever you are near me something horrible happens to you."

"Not always," she replied. Before he could retort, Christine slid into his lap, a leg on either side, her arms wrapping around his neck as she buried her face against his shoulder. "I missed you…"

"Christine…" he started, torn between pulling away and giving in to her affection. He chose the latter, pressing his masked face against her hair. _Such a sweet girl. She's been through too much because of me. _He scolded himself even as he traced his fingers up and down her spine.

"After everything that has happened, why do you still wish to be near me?" he asked softly.

Christine raised her head and brought a hand to his face, gently slipping off his mask and letting it flutter to the floor. "Haven't you figured it out yet?"

"What is there to figure out?" he asked. "Why do you continue to show such kindness to a _monster_?"

Christine frowned, hands clenched into tiny fists. "You are _not_ a monster, Erik! Stop CALLING yourself that!" _Why do things always have to be so difficult with him?_

He scoffed. "Is that so? Remember whose blood I share, angel. Remember what I've done with these very hands. Remember what the _Guild _calls me!" He shook his head. "How can you _possibly _believe I am NOT a monster?"

Christine grew angry. "Because I wouldn't _love _a monster!" she snapped.

Erik froze, golden eyes wide.

"Yes. I said it. I _love_ you, Erik," Christine replied, her voice growing softer, shocked and relieved that she had finally found the courage to tell him.

Erik's eyes closed, his breathing laboured.

Surely, she had not just said those words. Words that no one had EVER said to him.

_I love you, Erik. _… the words repeated in his head.

He swallowed hard as he buried his face against her neck, finding himself completely and utterly speechless.

"I'm sorry it took so long to tell you," Christine continued as she felt his breath against her skin. "I was… _scared_." She stroked his hair gently. "But there it is. _I love you_… and it's too late to stop."

Erik's arms wrapped around her waist. "Christine… I don't-"

"No!" Christine interrupted, "If you're suddenly going to get all noble and say something like _I don't deserve you _or _you'd be better off without me_, I swear I'll scream," she interrupted.

"But-"

She put a hand to his mouth. "Shut up, Erik," Christine then replaced her hand with her lips, immediately silencing any protests.

Erik released a sigh as he tangled his pale fingers in her hair. He pressed his mouth harder against her own, the kiss growing deeper, more intimate.

Christine slowly broke away. "Erik… promise me you're not going to try and break up for what YOU think is my own good again," she slid her fingers down his cheek, "because I just finally admitted I _love _you… and… I don't want you to go away. Ever." Her voice was that of a lost child.

Erik pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, his decision made. "I'm yours then. For as long as you want me."

Christine smiled, her voice soft when she spoke again. "That might be a long long time…"

* * *

**Motel 6 **

Shay stared up at the ceiling as he lay upon the bed. He could not believe his son had gotten the better of him.

In trying to change Erik's personality, he made the boy less hesitant to use lethal force. Shay was quite sure he would have been dead had he not pulled out the Laura card.

_Laura. _

He was still shocked to find that his son had killed her so easily. But then again, he could blame that on himself as well.

And now, he feared for his own life…

_"Well … that was quite the screw up, Sytri. To think, your own son bested you in a fight."_

Shay sat up in bed with a start. "What do you want, Lou?" he asked the voice.

_"Just checking to see how you are – though truly, I care not. However, I hear you are laying low, driven away from that lovely expensive house you enjoyed. You left all your people there to scatter. You seem to have no one to protect you now." _The voice let out a sigh. _"I told you it was a horrible idea from the beginning, but did you listen to me? No. Of course not."_

"Leave me be!" Shay grumbled.

_"You are always free to come home, you know."_

"It's too hot there. And it smells like brimstone."

_"Oh, pardon me then. Perhaps you would prefer another flood? I know how much fun that **last **one was…" _the voice replied dryly.

"At least it kept us on our toes." Shay replied.

_"You're such a restless child, Sytri. And stubborn too. Take a break now and return."_

"Later, Lou. I have business to attend to!"

There was an impatient sigh. _"Oh do what you wish, then. I will laugh once more when you fail." _

The voice was soon gone, and Shay was finally alone.

* * *

**Christine's dorm room – 4 hours later**

Christine opened her eyes slowly, seeing nothing but darkness. She was disoriented until she felt a warm body brushing against her.

_Erik._

She reached over and rested her head upon his bared chest, listened to his deep breathing and strong heartbeat. The feel of this living, breathing man beside her was so very nice, warm.

_Comfortable..._

She heard her name softly muttered as sturdy arms instinctively slid up around her, the slow deep breathing continuing. Christine smiled - he was still sleeping.

She had finally told him.

It was as if a great weight had lifted from her shoulders. She had even asked him to see his scars – the damage inflicted on him all those years ago – before they had spent the rest of the night simply talking. They had fallen asleep doing so.

… and Erik had obviously not woken up to put his shirt back on.

"Christine?" came a lethargic mutter.

Christine's thoughts were pleasantly interrupted as Erik slowly woke from his slumber. "Mmm-hmm..." she responded. "Good morning. "

He looked down at the top of her head, his voice soft when he spoke. "Angel? Did we-" he stopped. "No. We're still dressed." A pause. "Well, mostly."

"Glad you're not disappointed…" she muttered.

"Beloved," he started, "clothed or otherwise, you still feel so very nice in my arms." He tightened his grip around her and pulled her a little higher to bury his face in her hair. His beautiful voice then grew serious. "What you said earlier – I did not imagine it, did I?"

"No. I said I loved you. And I meant it."

"I wasn't sure," he replied softly. "I thought… perhaps… it was merely my imagination. A beautiful dream. Forgive me, it's not… I never thought a woman would ever say she-"

His words faded as Christine's fingers reached out to find his unmasked face in the dark, tracing over the sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, concave nose, and soft lips.

Christine pushed herself up slightly, kissing the aforementioned lips, then looking down at him with a smile she was sure he could see.

"I'd gladly spend every night like this." She slowly trailed gentle kisses down his jaw and neck, her hands wandering of their own volition.

With a surprised yelp, Christine soon found the mattress beneath her, Erik's glowing golden eyes looming over her as he pinned her wrists above her head. "Angel, if you do not watch your hands, you may start to feel something _else_."

Christine lifted her head and kissed his cheek. "Sorry. Let's just go back to sleep."

"Are you sure you want me to stay now?" he asked as he released her wrists.

Christine nodded. "You make a nice pillow. And besides - I think the heat's gone wonky. You can warm me up."

"Ah. Well. It is good to have my uses." Erik replied, and made a mental note to make sure the heat went _wonky_ more often.

* * *

**Motel 6 **

Shay closed his eyes, trying to find Erik's mind through the haze that greeted him. The boy had somehow managed to close off his influence.

He could no longer access his son's mind, nor sway his thoughts or invade them... but he could still sense what Erik was doing.

Shay frowned.

Sleeping.

Only sleeping.

He thought the boy would have taken his male rights by now. But alas, it seemed Christine Daaé's thighs were rather difficult to pry apart.

Shay frowned distastefully at the disgusting tenderness he sensed while Erik simply lay there and held the girl. He cut the connection, not even bothering to wait for anything else to happen. It was futile.

Why did such little things mean so damned much to the boy? Why couldn't his son just take his physical pleasure from his female instead of feeling some deep emotional attachment to her?

_Because he's in love with her_… Shay answered his own question.

He sighed with disappointment. It was no fun to spy on two people who were gushing with so much stifling, sickening _love_.

Shay remembered Madeline Renau.

Despite her profession, she was still capable of falling in love with a man.

What she saw in _him _to garner such an attachment, he'd never know. He had certainly done nothing to warrant it. He had, in fact, treated her rather cruelly… yet that horrid emotion was there, festering within her like some incurable disease each and every time she welcomed him into her body. Perhaps she thought he could save her from the life she had chosen.

How disappointed she must have been when he left her alone with his ugly bastard child.

_Love _was a waste of energy. It made the smartest man foolish and the strongest man weak.

Shay was rather glad he was incapable of it.

* * *

**Christine's dorm room – 2 hours later**

It was the scream that woke Christine first. A high-pitched scream of utter terror.

Her eyes shot open to see Meg standing only a few feet away, hands covering her mouth, fear in her eyes.

Then Christine felt a bony face pressed against her stomach, arms grasping her waist. "STOP _SCREAMING_, DAMN IT!" came Erik's barking command from underneath the blankets. The two had decided to curl up beneath them when they had gone to sleep.

Meg quickly closed her mouth, not daring to disobey that angry voice, "Who... what... ? Oh god, Christine! Are you... ok?" The concern and panic was very apparent in Meg's voice.

"I'm fine. Why are you-OH!" Christine blushed, realizing what Meg was most likely thinking. She quickly slid a hand beneath the blankets to trace her fingers over Erik's distorted features. "You ok?"

"Yes. I'm wonderful," was the sarcastic reply. "Now that I'm not going _deaf._" His voice was calm and cool, but Christine could feel him shaking against her. Meg's jarring reaction had agitated him greatly.

"Oh god! That's _ERIK_!" Meg sputtered as she stumbled back, falling ungracefully on her bed.

"Yes. Thank you for noticing, Little Giry!" came the harsh reply.

A well-toned and very pale arm suddenly shot out from beneath Christine's blankets, long slender fingers open. "Now if you do not mind, could you possibly hand me my _mask?_" he asked. "My _face _obviously doesn't sit well with you."

"Mask? OH! Yes... uh... um... where...where is it?" she stuttered.

"It should be on the floor. Beside the desk." It took Meg a moment to find the strength to stand, but when she did, she quickly grabbed the mask and placed it in Erik's outstretched hand.

Christine pressed herself against the wall, giving Erik room to arrange his mask beneath the blankets.

He slid out of the bed and ran his fingers through his shoulder-length hair in a quick attempt to neaten it. "Your arrival was rather _unexpected_,"

"I... I'm sorry..." Meg whispered softly as she sunk back down on her bed, still rather stunned. "When I saw your face... it's... uh... not that... I mean... um..."

The strawberry blonde bit her lip nervously, her words leaving her. She closed her eyes and turned away. "I... I had no idea... you looked like… like-"

"Like a _corpse_?" Erik finished as he crouched down in front of Meg. She couldn't meet the golden eyes that peered out at her beneath the black cotton.

Erik let out a sigh, seeing his answer in her refusal to dispute his words. "I despise it when people _scream _at the sight of me," he began dangerously. "I usually cause them bodily harm until they _stop._"

Meg was not sure whether he was being serious or making a morbid joke.

"This morning, however," he continued, "I seem to be in a very good mood for some reason." He glanced over at Christine knowingly, and the brunette blushed deeply, a shy smile on her face.

A desperate knocking at the door startled the occupants of the room.

Sorelli and Jammes voices were demanding to know what the screaming was, if everyone was ok, what was happening.

Meg jumped to her feet and opened the door a crack. She informed the girls everything was fine, then shut it in their faces. The last thing the gossipmongers needed to see was a shirtless Erik and a skimpily clothed Christine.

"I should head off," Erik spoke softly, then glanced at the vent above her bed. "I don't want the others to think badly of you having a man in your room."

Meg blinked at this, studying the masked man before her. "Are you for real?" she asked. "_Most_ guys WANT people to think they've gotten lai-"

"_I_..." he interrupted harshly, "...am _not_ most guys!"

Meg turned to Christine with a raised eyebrow. _"Keep _this one,"

Christine smiled at Meg, then entwined her fingers with Erik's. "Stay?" she asked. "It's not like they haven't met you."

He shook his head. "That doesn't matter, Christine. If they see me here, they'll jump to conclusions." A pause. "Besides, the last time they saw me was Halloween. How would you explain my mask _now_?"

"It's not their business," Christine answered simply.

"No matter. I do not trust Sorelli and Jammes to keep your confidence." He shrugged.

"Perhaps I am old-fashioned in that sense. I do not want to hear stories on campus being told about you." He glanced at Meg, then back at Christine. "Though I imagine as soon as I leave, you will clear up Little Giry's apparent confusion."

Christine slid her arms around Erik, rather _liking_ his old-fashioned need to protect her virtue. Meg really was the only person she could confide in about it.

"Call me later?" Christine asked. Erik nodded, then bent down to give Christine a quick kiss, knowing anything more than that might embarrass Little Giry.

When they broke away, he had grabbed his shirt, boots, and duster before heading to the air ducts, and disappearing from view.

"Ok," Meg spoke. "You're _definitely _keeping this one! And if you _don't_," she warned, "Then _I'll_ take him!" She then sat on her bed, waiting. "Now don't keep me in suspense here. Give me all the intimate details. 'cuz, honey… I saw you in the same bed with the guy. And… well… you have to know what I'm thinking."

With a laugh, Christine made herself comfortable, and explained what really happened.

* * *

**Elsewhere – that night**

Black boots crunched quietly on the snowy ground, a gloved hand slipping into the pocket of a long black coat. The rope slid out easily, still coiled ever so neatly.

The girl was only a few feet away, waiting for the bus nervously. _Pretty girls really shouldn't be out this late at night by themselves._ He thought. _There is no telling what manner of person lurks in the shadows._

She screamed as he wrapped the rope around her neck.

He truly hated it when a woman screamed. It made him so very angry…

**END OF EPISODE 34**

* * *

_**A/N: Sytri: In his human shape, he is a handsome man. Believed to be a Prince of Hell, owning 70 legions, and is able to seduce or bring about physical attraction.** _

_Source: Lemegeton, Johann Wier's Pseudomonarchia Daemonum _


	35. Episode 35: Reanimated

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir **_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter**

**Episode 35: Reanimated **

By: Elektra

**Graveyard**

With a weary sigh, Erik decapitated yet another walking carcass making Its way towards him, his machete growing duller by the minute. In a great show of frustration, he kicked the rolling head like a soccer ball, sending it flying several feet away.

This had been going on for far too long now. He had not even had time to spend with his angel since the week before.

Every night after hunting, Erik would sneak into the air ducts above Christine's dorm only to find his beloved already asleep, curled up with one of her stuffed animals and looking as adorable as could be.

He had not had the heart to disturb her those nights, but he would find himself keeping watch for a few hours. He had long ago deemed himself Christine's guardian angel. A _dark_ angel, to be sure, but her guardian no less.

_I love you, Erik.._. those words still played in his head. It was all he had needed to finally break away from the last of Shay's influence.

A strange growling interrupted Erik's pleasant thoughts. He turned to see yet more lumbering rotting forms wandering aimlessly towards him.

_How many of these damned things have crawled out and gone walking? _He wondered. It was near impossible to tell numbers from the various decomposing body parts that lay strewn on the ground around him - thanks in part to the various other Hunters who had been assisting in this little assignment.

Erik was quite sure he'd have to scrub himself raw to get the stench of _corpse_ off his body. It was enough that he _looked _like one, he did not want to _smell _like one.

"Hey, Executioner!" a voice called out. Erik turned to see fellow Hunter Joseph Buquet rid himself of another moving cadaver, "I think I found your brother! Looks just like you!" he snickered as he tapped the rotting form with the toe of his boot.

Erik frowned. "I guarantee you, Buquet, if I were not in such a rush to be elsewhere, I would show you how _unfunny_ I find your humour."

Buquet snorted. "Lemme guess. With your woman? Weird taste in men, she has. She'd probably find _these_ boys attractive!" He indicated their walking-dead quarry.

Erik's amber eyes seemed to take on a dangerous glow as he slid his hand into the pocket of his duster, graceful fingers wrapping around coiled rope. "Do not make me _hurt _you!"

Buquet's smirk faded and he immediately grew silent, no doubt in his mind that the Executioner would not hesitate to follow through on his threat.

* * *

**Christine and Meg's dorm room**

"Meg?" Christine spoke as she sat on her bed and frowned at the book on her lap. "Is there something wrong with me?"

"How so?" Meg asked as she looked up from the ballet magazine she was reading.

"Well… " She pointed out her assigned reading for English. "I'm at the part where Hamlet is talking to a skull – and I'm thinking about Erik."

Meg considered that for a moment. "Maybe I _would_ be worried – if your boyfriend didn't bear a passing resemblance to poor Yorick."

"I didn't mean it like _that_," Christine lay back on her bed, her voice growing softer. "It's just that Erik's been so busy with Guild stuff that I haven't seen him all week," she pouted.

"So you miss macking on your corpse-y boyfriend. No wonder you're fantasizing about skulls," she answered.

"You make it sound like I'm a necrophiliac," Christine said as she playfully tossed a pillow at Meg. "Erik is a living, breathing _man_."

"… who looks like a corpse…" Meg added, and immediately ducked a flying beanie baby. "A _sexy _corpse, though." She had to duck a _Pok__é__mon _plushie next.

Soon, a full-fledged pillow and plushie fight broke out between the two girls. It didn't stop until they were both too tired to continue and their stomachs hurt from laughing and squealing.

They lay back on their beds, trying to catch their breaths.

"Feel better?" Meg asked.

"I…" Christine stopped, then seemed surprised. "Yeah! I do!"

"Thought so." Meg replied, then her voice grew quiet. "You're lucky, you know. Erik is as loyal as a puppy dog."

Christine pushed herself up on her elbows, brow furrowed. "Meggy?" She began, long since aware something had been bothering her friend all day. "What is it? Are you having trouble with RJ?"

Meg's face fell, and she glanced away. "He dumped me."

"What! WHEN?" Christine gasped.

"Last night."

"WHY?" Christine sputtered in disbelief.

"Because… I … I threatened to…" Meg bit her trembling lower lip, desperately trying to hold back tears. "Because I threatened to cut him off physically if he didn't treat me more like a girlfriend and less like a booty call."

Meg hugged herself. "He told me he had been with other girls … and that… if I cut him off, he'd just… just go to _them_ instead…"

"Oh Meggy!" Christine immediately went to her friend's side and put an arm around her.

Meg's voice cracked and she buried her face in her hands. "I thought he was lying, just to get me mad but… his roommate… Steve said… he said RJ _cheated_ on me. More than once!"

"Sweetie, I'm so sorry! Why didn't you tell me when you got in last night?"

Meg sniffled. "You were sleeping. I didn't want to… want to wake you with that…"

"No… oh honey, no! I'm always here you!" Christine cradled Meg's head against her shoulder, not caring that her friend's tears were soaking through the material of her cami.

Christine was so busy consoling her friend that she failed to notice the glowing yellow eyes staring down at them through the air ducts.

* * *

**RJ's dorm room – Ten minutes later**

Richard Firmin Jr. was startled awake as leather-clad hand clamped over his mouth and another grasped the front of his shirt, yanking him into a sitting position before lifting him into the air and shoving him through the open grate in the ceiling of his room.

The boy's eyes went wide as he was tossed into the metal tunnels and forced to come eye to eye with Death himself. "Holy SHIT!"

"Well… you certainly smell _similar_ to it…" Death frowned, pressing a hand over the hole that constituted his nose. "I would think at your age, you would know how to control your bladder." He shrugged his black-clad shoulders. "But I suppose a good scare does that to a boy."

RJ shook his head. "What the… _Erik?_" he gasped, recognizing the voice now.

Erik cocked his head to the left. "Yes. That would be me. Ahh… but I forgot – you have never seen my face. Well," he smirked, "here it is. Handsome fellow, aren't I?"

Erik then frowned darkly. "I would suggest, however, that you do not tell any of your friends about my appearance or you shall be very sorry." He raised a smooth eyebrow, "And I doubt your father or Antoinette would be happy about such things either."

"N-no… w-won't say a thing!" RJ stuttered.

"Very well then. I suppose you would like to know why I dragged you up here?"

RJ nodded nervously.

"You made Little Giry cry." Erik answered simply. "After a hard night's work, I wanted to spend some quality time with my angel. Only I found her busy comforting her sobbing friend," he explained.

"And WHY was she sobbing?" Erik continued, but didn't wait for an answer. "Because a boy who likes to fancy himself a man broke her heart for the poorest of reasons - because he could not keep his pants on!"

Erik leaned in closer, allowing RJ a good look at his exposed visage. "I have no patience for a boy who treats a woman as if it is his _right _to take pleasure from her. _That_ is a _privilege_!"

RJ scoffed at that. "Just because Christine hasn't screwed you yet, doesn't mean _I_ need to deny myself!"

"What happens between Christine and myself is _not _your concern." Erik growled as he clamped a hand around RJ's throat. "And I would suggest you cease your commentary on the subject or this little _discussion_ is not going to end well for you!"

RJ swallowed and quickly shut up, his fear returning ten-fold.

"That is better. Now…" Erik continued, bringing his hand back to his side. "I really do not care if you bed every whore in the city. It is the fact that you _hurt _Little Giry that angers me!"

"You see," Erik continued, "I have an allegiance towards the Giry family for reasons of my own and I am willing to act on their behalf when I see one has been mistreated. Now since Little Giry will not confront you on her own – and you truly _deserve _to be confronted…" He smiled coldly. "_I_ have decided to do it _for _her! And I will _continue_ these confrontations until I find that she has been properly apologized to."

* * *

**Dean Giry's office – the next day**

Giry held up a folder and handed it to the masked man before her. "This is all the information we have found about the latest happenings."

Erik flipped through the memos before him. "Shouldn't defeating the Leader have _lessened_ our workload, rather than _increased_ it?" he grumbled unhappily.

"None of this has anything to do with your father," Giry pointed out.

Erik scowled beneath his mask. "I would rather you _not _refer to him that way, Antoinette," he hissed.

"Well, regardless. He is not the one causing the disturbances. In fact, it is a shame he is in hiding, for we think whoever is doing this was one of his people. They have all scattered since his defeat and are near impossible to track down."

Erik frowned and tossed the folder back on her desk. "I have no patience for this," he growled as he began to pace back and forth.

Giry eyed him carefully. "You seem far more restless then usual, Erik. Is there something wrong?"

"Other than the fact I have not had any time with Christine since all this started, NO… what could POSSIBLY be wrong?" he snarled.

Giry let out a breath and leaned back against her desk, relieved. "Is that all it is, then?" she asked. For a moment, she had worried the Leader might have been forcing his influence once again. She was grateful to find Erik was simply in need of his beloved's companionship.

Her concern put to rest, Giry went through the folder on her desk once more. "We think we have found the source of our current _problem_," she said, and handed Erik a memo from the back of the folder. "It is a practitioner of dark arts that has only come to our attention recently. We believe she was hired for this particular job. Unfortunately, her power is such that her job will not be over until her _life_ is."

"The Executioner will do what he must then…" Erik sighed, and Giry was grateful to note the hesitance in his voice once more, to see bits of Erik's old personality resurfacing.

It seemed Christine's attention had given him far more than Giry had expected.

* * *

**Elsewhere - 2 hours later **

Looking around, Erik noted the disarray of the room he was in. How had he gotten here now?

Ah yes… Firmin, André and himself were looking for the cause of the uprising of rotting corpses. But… they had come to find someone, hadn't they?

Yes, the lady who was supposedly behind it. Yet as they looked around now, she was nowhere to be seen, though there was much in the way of dead things lying about.

"We were supposed to get rid of someone, were we not?" Erik spoke up finally.

"Yes!" Firmin began, "She's right-" he turned to point at something, then furrowed his brow. "I could have sworn that woman _was _right here a few moments ago!"

Erik frowned. "It seems we were momentarily be-spelled to forget her existence." He slowly coiled his rope back up, and stopped to stare at it. It was splattered dark red and brown.

Perhaps he should wash it… scrub the stains out…

"Erik?" André began nervously. The man's eyes were frightening. Dark. Cold. "Are you… alright?"

Erik stood unemotional, "I do not appreciate my mind being played with!"

It had been happening far too much lately.

"Erik?" Firmin stepped forward hesitantly, seeing the muscles in Erik's jaw clench, the ice practically pouring off him. "Perhaps… you should spend some time with your lady?"

There was a flicker of light in those amber eyes as he glanced at Firmin, "Christine…" Erik whispered, then blinked quickly.

"Yes…" he answered finally. He shook his head violently, then took a few slow deep breaths. " Of course." He began to coil his rope. "She hasn't seen me all week."

Firmin gave a noticeable sigh of relief upon seeing slowly Erik return to himself.

"Now if we are done here," Erik continued coolly as he slid the rope into his duster, "I'll be leaving." He then offered a polite nod to the two men before him and disappeared into the shadows.

* * *

**Erik's room – 3am that night**

Christine opened her eyes slowly, feeling a warm weight on her body. She looked down to see Erik currently using her petite chest as a pillow, an arm stretched across her stomach, his hand dangling over the edge of the bed.

She turned a little to see the book he had been reading to her earlier now lay sloppily on the floor.

Erik had arrived in the air ducts to inform her that he was done for the night, and Christine had immediately gone to await him in his room. The two were a model of domesticity – playing "Mortal Kombat" on his PS2 for a few hours until their eyes grew heavy, leading Erik to read a book. Christine allowed his beautiful voice to lull her to sleep.

With a yawn, Christine stretched herself out, causing the arm on her stomach to curl around her waist.

She glanced down to see Erik's masked face in the dim light from the candles that decorated his room. With a careful tug of her fingers, she gently slid the cotton off, her thoughts going back to the conversation she had had earlier with Meg.

_Erik is a living, breathing man, _Christine had insisted.

_… who looks like a corpse… _Meg had replied.

Yes, her friend had been joking… but now Christine understood why Meg had screamed when she had inadvertently walked into their dorm room to see Christine curled up beside a deathly pale man with a skeletal face.

Christine had grown so used to the way Erik looked that she had forgotten what he looked like to _others_. No wonder he chose to stay hidden most of the time.

With a tender press of her lips atop his ebony hair, she gently trailed her fingers over his back, feeling the raised scars beneath the rough strips of mesh on his shirt.

Her gaze fell back to his face…

… and she was painfully reminded of the reason he had suffered such torture in the first place.

_**That's** why_, she thought bitterly as she closed her eyes and forced back a curse at those who had harmed him.

Christine's thoughts were interrupted as a graceful hand suddenly traveled up her side. Her lids fluttered open and she saw two glowing yellow eyes hovering above her. "Did we fall asleep?"

"Apparently," she replied softly as she traced her fingers along his gaunt cheek. Upon feeling her skin against his, he quickly placed a hand over his face - a long ago learned reaction.

"I took it off," she answered, quite aware of his concern.

He lowered his hand, his voice quiet when he spoke. "Yes. Of course. Sometimes I forget that you are used to this." Erik made himself comfortable beside Christine, gathering the petite girl against him before resting her head upon his shoulder.

"Hey, Erik?" Christine began softly, quite content in their current position.

"Hmm?"

"Weird thing happened earlier today," she explained as her fingers absently slid beneath the hem of Erik's shirt. She noted his momentary flinch at the contact and wasn't sure whether to be relieved he was slowly returning to his old ways, or worried that he would shy away from all physical contact again.

"RJ came into our dorm and apologized to Meg for being a dumbass."

"Is that so?" Erik answered. "Hopefully she did not agree to take him back."

"No," she replied as she affectionately traced her fingers over his torso, "but the fact he even apologized in the first place surprised me. It makes me wonder what drove him to do that."

"Perhaps a ghost?" he asked.

Her hand froze against his chest. "_You _talked to him?"

Erik shrugged. "Maybe a little. Specter to College boy. Showed him the error of his ways."

"You scared him, didn't you?" she frowned.

"Or maybe I just made him feel guilty," he offered, but sensed Christine didn't buy that. He let out a sigh. "Well, angel, I cannot help it if the boy was so frightened of me he pissed his pants. But Little Giry deserved an apology at least. Don't you agree?"

Christine's fingers brushed his skin again as she snuggled closer. "Yes, she did. And RJ deserves to be castrated for being such a bastard!"

Erik winced at that. "Remind me never to displease you."

"Sorry, but I have no patience for guys who cheat. And to use the excuse that Meg wouldn't give him what he wanted…" she shook her head in disgust.

"Whereas here _I _am, simply content to have you _beside _me," he mused.

She smiled at that. "You're one of a kind."

"Yes. And thank goodness for that. Imagine _another _ugly bastard like me running around?"

"Don't talk like that," Christine scolded gently, then furrowed her brow as her curious fingers found a raised patch of skin a few inches above his heart. "What's this?"

"Ah. Yes. _That_." She could hear the scowl in his voice. "A misunderstanding when I was seventeen," he said. "I was on my first solo hunt and found my quarry feeding. Naturally I took care of the thing, but a police officer had appeared on the scene - the victim had initially called 911 for help." Erik explained.

Christine worried where this was going.

"My mask had come off during the fight – I was not as adept then as I am now - and the poor fool saw my face and thought I was no better than that which I had destroyed. He became a little trigger happy." Erik shrugged. "Luckily he was a bad shot."

Christine wrapped an arm tightly around him. "What happened afterwards?"

"The officer was taken care of." Erik replied, and felt Christine immediately stiffen. He closed his eyes a moment, regretting his misplaced words.

"Not by _me_, Christine," he clarified softly. "By his superiors." He took a deep breath, "The man my quarry had tried to make a meal out of told them I had saved his life. The rookie was heavily reprimanded for firing his weapon before fully assessing the situation."

"Oh," was all Christine could say before relaxing against him once again.

There were a few moments of silence before Erik spoke again. "Do you want me to take you back to your room?" He asked, wondering if he had made her uneasy in any way.

She raised her head a little to check the clock on his nightstand. "Meg will still be sleeping. I don't want to wake her." She met his eyes, "Will you be comfortable if I stay here for the rest of the night?"

"Quite comfortable." He answered. "But it was _you_ I was concerned about."

He could see Christine's smile in the glow of the candlelight. "I'm fine." She rested her head on his shoulder again. "We should do this more often." She sighed contentedly. "A lot of girls here sleep with their boyfriends."

She suddenly realized what she said and immediately regretted her words. "I meant… SLEEP sleep… not… um… you know… the OTHER kind of sleep… where you don't actually _sleep_…"

Erik chuckled quietly at her embarrassment. "I'm fine with that, angel. I seem to be in better control of my faculties as of late."

"Good," she answered softly. The two moved themselves to settle beneath the blankets and Christine spoke once again. "Erik…?" she started nervously.

"Yes?"

"It… it's not that I wouldn't… _not_ sleep… It's just … maybe… a bit…. _later_…"

"I will leave such things up to your discretion, angel."

Truth be told, Erik would be the first to admit he had no idea what to _do _with Christine aside from knowing the scientific theory of how two bodies should work.

At the moment, however, his practical knowledge - or lack thereof - seemed a rather moot point.

**END OF EPISODE 35**


	36. Episode 36: By the Light of the Moon

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir **_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 36: By the Light of the Moon

By: Elektra

**Baraka's Travelling Fair**

Baraka, the fair keeper, stood beside his assistant as the two looked over the body on the ground. Its face had been ripped to shreds, its neck seemingly chewed right through, and its body was unrecognizable as either female or male.

"This is the third one in as many weeks," Analie, his assistant, pointed out. "Something needs to be done."

"And what should we do, Ana?" Baraka asked. "If you've got some brilliant plan, please share it."

Analie turned from the body, unable to stare any longer. "I know some people who may be able to help," she said. "They helped me a long time ago, when I was a kid. But… it could be we picked up some kind of scavenger on our travels and this could just be an animal attack."

Baraka narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean _this could just be an animal attack_?" He carefully studied the woman before him. "Ana? What OTHER kind of attack would this be?"

* * *

**Elaenor's House of Wax**

Christine stared up at the wax figure of _Wonder Woman_ that stood before her, then slid out her digital camera – a Christmas gift from Erik – and snapped a picture.

"Wonder Woman was my hero when I was little," Christine smiled. "I wanted to be just like her."

"You wanted to wear spandex shorts and a halter top?" Erik asked as he glanced around at the other superhero figures in the room, his eyes falling upon the masked Batman. "I would rather like to see that, actually."

"Oh hush!" Christine scolded as she slid her camera back into her purse. She reached behind to grasp Erik's arms and wrap them around her shoulders, leaning back against him.

He was always amazed by her little acts of affection.

Dressed in a blue midriff-baring baby tee and form-fitting athletic pants with her hair tied back in two long braids, Christine looked far cuter then she had any right to – especially considering the other male patron currently ogling her.

Erik slid his golden eyes towards the handsome young man, the icy glare forcing the boy to literally jump back and widen the distance between them, making an obvious effort to focus on everything but the girl.

Satisfied, Erik's gaze fell to the top of Christine's head. _How long will this last?_ He wondered. Would Christine ever consider someone like him a possible husband? He dared not ask.

"Come, angel. I would like to look in the Horror room," he replied, entwining his fingers with Christine's and gently leading her through the doorway to the left.

The two soon found themselves in a faux dungeon where all manner of gruesome waxed figures resided in the low red and blue lights. The dungeon was complete with strategically placed sound effects filled with rattling chains, screaming women, howling wolves, and ghostly moans. Some of the figures even moved, crawling out of coffins or breaking through the metal doors of an insane asylum.

Erik suddenly felt a tug on his hand as the girl at his side stopped walking.

"Erik?"

"Hmm?"

"Are they real?" she asked as she glanced up at a werewolf figure a few feet in front of her. The scenery surrounding it was a murky forest with a full moon overhead.

"What do _you _think?" he asked.

Christine looked up at him. "That's the thing. I don't know _what_ to think. I mean, there are _a lot _of things I never thought were real before."

Erik shrugged. "I have never come up against one."

"That doesn't answer my question."

He lifted her hand and placed a light kiss atop her knuckles, then led her on. "Well… I've heard stories about other Hunters running into a creature that they could not explain," he answered, "but it was never confirmed as to what it was. It could have very well been a normal everyday wolf."

"I don't suppose you have any silver bullets? Just in case?" she asked.

"Silver bullets are useless, to be honest, though I imagine they hurt as much as any kind of bullet does." He then shrugged. "Either way, I would not know. I have never fired a gun in my life. I am the kind who prefers using his hands."

"Could you teach me?" she asked suddenly.

Erik stopped walking, almost causing Christine to stumble into him. "Pardon?"

"Teach me to fight," she answered as she caught her footing. "I don't want to be a damsel in distress."

"Ah yes, you want to be _Wonder Woman_," he muttered darkly.

"Erik, I'm serious!" She frowned. "I should know _some_ self-defense."

He met her eyes and realized he had not even considered such a thing.

Erik had kept himself from the world for so long that he had not stopped to think about the _human_ threats lurking around that could hurt a girl as much, if not more, then their _inhuman_ counterparts.

He took a deep breath and finally spoke. "Perhaps it is time…"

* * *

**Dean Giry's Private room – Ravelle Residence (two days later)**

Giry frowned into the phone as the head of the Guild informed her of his latest plan. "You want Erik to investigate a travelling Fair of all things, Gus? We have _scouts _to do that." She said, then waited for his reply.

"Well… yes… I suppose he _would_ fit better than the others in such an environment. What are the details?" She listened as he explained the situation and what Erik would be looking for. "Very well, I will see if he's interested."

Another pause as Leroux responded.

"Now Gus, you know as well as _I_ do that one cannot 'order' Erik. If he wishes to do it, he will. If not, then you must find someone else. I will call back with Erik's reply."

She cradled the phone and glanced up at the clock. She would need some time to gather her thoughts before approaching Erik with this assignment.

* * *

**Elsewhere**

Christine was breathless as she collapsed beside Erik, aching in places she didn't know a girl could ache. "God… that was exhausting!"

"I am surprised you kept up with me," Erik replied.

"Barely," Christine answered. "You have incredible stamina!"

He pushed himself up on his elbows and studied her. "If I did not know better, I would think you had done this before," he said.

Another slightly annoyed voice interrupted their conversation. "Um, are you two finished with the workout mats?"

Christine turned away from the masked man to see a fellow student standing a few feet away, water bottle in hand, a borrowed _Ravelle Athletic Department _towel around her neck.

The petite brunette pushed herself into a sitting position, her body protesting every movement. "Yeah, I've had enough power crunches to last me a year. If I do one more, I think I'm going to puke."

Erik grimaced at the unflattering imagery. "You will need this training to build up your strength if you want to handle yourself in a fight, angel," he replied as he gracefully jumped to his feet, looking as energetic as he had _before _their intense workout.

"I want to learn _self-defense_, Erik, not turn into She-Hulk!" she muttered. "Ballet dancers are supposed to be lean and flexible, not tight and muscled!"

Erik was silent for a moment, his eyes slowly taking in her wonderfully supple form. _Flexible indeed._ _I'm sure she's **very** flexible._

The last thing Erik wanted to do was hamper Christine's flexibility, for reasons she did not need to know. "Next time we will just go straight to the self-defense," he offered quickly, hoping not to betray his thoughts.

Erik held a hand out to Christine and assisted her up, ignoring the looks the other student was giving the new mask Christine had made him for the holidays.

His little angel had decorated this one – red teardrops against black cotton - purposely allowing the mask to appear more fashionable than curious.

"Excuse me? Can we help you?" Christine spoke harshly upon noticing the girl's stares… and realizing she was eyeing far more than just Erik's mask.

The other girl simply stuck her nose up and dragged the workout mats over to her waiting friend.

_I need to get away from college girls…_Erik thought.

Before Erik could comment aloud, his cell-phone rang. He quickly grabbed it off the waistband of his black yoga pants. "Yes, Antoinette?" he let out a sigh as she spoke. "Very well. Meet me in my room in an hour."

It appeared their self-defense lesson would be cut short.

* * *

**Erik's room – 1 hour later**

Christine pounded away at Erik's Nintendo DS as she attempted to finish her _Super Mario 64_ level. The sound of Erik's shower could be heard through the door to the bathroom. He had gallantly allowed Christine her own shower first, but her hair was still damp as Erik seemed to lack a hairdryer.

So caught up in her game, she didn't hear the water turn off nor the bathroom door open. Instead, she released a string of swear words as Mario's last artificial life was ended by an ill-judged jump.

"Goodness, angel… I did not think you had such language in you," Erik began with a chuckle.

Christine blushed sheepishly, muttering an apology as she turned to Erik… and found her breath catch. _Why couldn't he have been wearing **more **than a towel?_

He suddenly cocked his head to the left. "Antoinette is here."

Christine looked around, "What? Where?"

The sudden knock at the door startled Christine.

"_There_. Can you get that, beloved? I'm not quite ready yet." He retreated back into the bathroom, leaving Christine caught off-guard by his uncanny hearing. The knock came again and she quickly jumped up and opened the door.

"Am I interrupting something?" Giry asked, noticeably surprised to see who answered.

"No no!" Christine smiled. "Erik's just getting dressed. He won't be much longer."

Giry raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

After a few moments, Erik finally emerged, dressed and masked. "What is this new assignment, Antoinette?" he asked.

"Well," Giry began. "It involves you taking up a temporary job at a travelling Fair currently arriving in town. We need you to assess a situation and inform us to what you think would be the cause."

"And why am I _scouting_? Usually I am _Hunting_," Erik asked suspiciously.

"You have the right skills to fit in undetected - you can throw your voice; you know a bit of hypnotism; and you are adept at illusions and magic tricks. Your role-playing needs to be convincing."

Christine's eyes went wide. "Erik! You can do magic tricks?"

Erik shrugged. "I have dabbled now and then, yes. It was a way to amuse myself when I was younger."

Christine seemed rather excited about that, looking very much like a fascinated child at the moment.

Erik turned back to Giry. "Very well, tell Leroux I will do it. BUT..." he narrowed his eyes– "I will NOT remove my mask to cement my part. I REFUSE to be put on display. If it comes to such a thing, then the Guild will be on their own for this assignment."

"Understood, Erik. I will inform Gus of the terms," Giry replied, then handed him an envelope. "Here is the information you will need." She wished the two goodnight and made her exit.

Christine looked up at Erik. "It sounds like a fun assignment. I just hope you don't like it so much that you decide to stay," she smiled.

"Believe me, angel. The last place I would want to stay is in a travelling fair."

Christine furrowed her brow. "Why? With all your interests in magic and stuff-"

"I will most likely be locked in a cage and thrown into the Freak Show," he interrupted. "Come see the living corpse. He sings, he dances, he does tricks..."

"Oh," Christine answered, biting her lip. She had not even considered that. "But... most of those people are guys paid to play off smoke and mirrors. They... they couldn't really lock you up." She suddenly seemed unsure. "Could they?"

"Who knows what people are capable of. For all I know, this assignment could lead to just that," he answered. "Though I imagine some kind soul would take pity on me if I constantly told the audience I was being held against my will."

Christine looked fearful at such a thought, nervously wringing her hands.

Erik studied her a moment, and finally spoke. "I am being facetious, Christine. As cruel as people are, an intelligent man would not put his business in danger by holding one of his _attractions_ captive. There are laws for such things."

Christine frowned and shoved at his chest. "You jerk! You had me worried there!"

He seemed to find her response entertaining and chuckled quietly as he wrapped his arms around her.

She struggled, still rather annoyed with his morose humour – until he slid his mouth over hers, effectively ending Christine's anger.

* * *

**Baraka's Travelling Fair - The Next Saturday**

Christine bowed gracefully as the applause faded out.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the Phantom and his lovely assistant, Christine!" The barker announced as Erik and Christine took one more bow and headed behind the curtains.

"Wow, this is so much fun!" she gasped excitedly as she grasped Erik's hands.

"Do not have TOO much fun," he answered. "Things are not always what they seem..."

Christine had insisted on accompanying Erik, explaining that it would make him a more feasible magician if he had an assistant.

Giry was quite against it, but Erik indicated that there was logic in such a plan, though he need not be reminded that Christine's safety was of utmost importance. If he needed to go into action, the girl was to stay in their trailer and not come out until he deemed it safe.

As the two left the tent, Baraka, the owner, motioned for Erik and Christine to join him in his office. They followed him into his trailer and were offered two seats before the metal table that served as his desk.

"It seems you two are rather good for business," he said as he leaned back in his chair. "After Friday night, word of mouth got around. We've never had such a response to local talent." He leaned forward and glanced at Erik. "I'm surprised no one's heard of you before now."

Erik shrugged. "Magic tricks do not pay bills, Mr. Baraka. I have a day job that requires most of my attention," he explained politely. "But as I rather enjoy my hobby, I thought it would be a nice experience for my wife and I to join your Fair for the weekend."

Christine tried not to choke on Erik's use of the word _wife_. It sounded more feasible than _girlfriend_, after all. But hearing him refer to her that way brought up mixed emotions – excitement and fear rolled into one.

The door suddenly flew open as a breathless woman rushed in, eyes wide with fear. "Another one!" she gasped. "There's been another one!"

Baraka jumped to his feet. "Where, Analie?" he demanded, and the woman quickly led him out.

Erik turned to Christine. "Go back to our trailer. I want to see what this is about," he said, then stood up. "And please, angel… do _not_ get curious."

"I wasn't going to follow," she insisted.

Erik frowned, making it quite clear that he knew she WAS going to follow until he made his comment. "_Please_, Christine?" his plea was rather heartfelt, and Christine reluctantly nodded and agreed to stay where it was safe.

* * *

**Outside**

Martine Robichaux ducked into the shadows when she saw Erik leave the trailer. She had found herself a nice home here among the others, using what little tricks she knew to set up a fortune telling booth.

But though she was sure she had a line of customers waiting, this man before her had caught her attention. She _knew _him.

He had tried, in fact, to rid the world of her not more than a week ago. Luckily, she had outsmarted the so-called _Hunters_ and made her escape.

Though now she questioned herself as she studied him carefully. Was he not the same man who had hired her in the first place? The man with the rope? She had never seen his face, after all, being that the man kept a mask upon it all the while he had been speaking to her.

If that were the case, then why had he come after her with two others? Why had he tried to use that very rope and wrap it around her neck?

There were far too many questions.

Martine _hated _questions.

* * *

**10 minutes later**

Erik studied the body laying on the ground before him. Baraka and his friend had since called the police and left the scene to meet them.

He crouched before the prone figure and tilted its head a little to the left to get a better view of the claw marks gouged into the face.

It was a girl no older than Christine's twenty years. He had seen her in the crowd earlier watching his performance and wondered if she had decided to look for the attractive male acrobats afterwards. The men seemed to garner a lot of female company after their shows.

Considering the dead girl was wearing very little in the way of clothing, she had obviously shared far more than chit-chat with the men.

He pulled his cell out of his coat and dialed Antoinette, informing her of the latest victim and his suspicions.

Two Hunters far more familiar with this kind of thing would be on their way shortly.

* * *

**Christine and Erik's trailer**

Christine was startled from her sleep by a loud noise outside the trailer. It sounded like growling. She had been napping on the couch, waiting for Erik to return.

Dressed only in a t-shirt and jeans, she slowly opened the door, wholly unprepared for the large blur of charcoal gray fur that suddenly leapt at her.

Christine cried out as she struggled with the larger creature that had landed atop her, crushing the very breath from her body.

Its snout of fangs and saliva hovered over her neck as a snarl emerged from its body. She could feel four sets of claws pressing into her chest and abdomen as its sharp canines plunged forward.

Before its strike could connect, a rope was thrown expertly around the animal's neck, yanking it off her.

Christine quickly pulled herself to her hands and knees, ignoring the sound of animalistic whimpers behind her. She heard much cursing and shuffling, then the sounds of heavy padded feet rushing off through the snow.

She crawled around only to see black leather boots strapped up to the knee, followed by a lean thigh encased in form-fitting black velvet.

"Really, angel… that is a rather undignified position." A silky voice spoke as leather-clad palms reached towards her, slender white fingers gently grasping her shoulders and hauling her to her feet.

Erik pulled Christine against him and tugged his duster around her shivering form.

Grateful for the warmth, she sunk against him and slid her hands into his back pockets, bringing heat to her icy fingers… before taking note of how wonderfully firm the backside her hands were pressed against felt.

"Did I not tell you to stay in the trailer?" Erik asked darkly, oblivious to her unintentional groping and far too annoyed to care.

"I stayed, honest!" she protested. "But… I heard a noise… so… I opened the door to see, and that… _thing_ jumped me!" She looked up at him. "That wasn't… I mean… it couldn't have been a-"

"I do not know what it was, but it slipped free from my rope and ran off. I underestimated its strength." Realizing she was only wearing a pair of socks in the snow, Erik suddenly wrapped his arms around Christine's waist and lifted her off the ground.

He carried her into the trailer and went about pulling something warm and dry from her duffel bag.

"After investigating the body Baraka's assistant found," he said as he tossed her a tracksuit and a pair of slippers, "I called upon those far more suited to deal with wild animals. We will be leaving here tomorrow - after our last show, of course."

He turned his back as Christine quickly changed out of her soiled clothing into the tracksuit.

"It was fun while it lasted. Maybe next time they come to town we can do a show just for the heck of it." She smiled.

Erik turned and met her eyes, his voice soft. "Are you alright? No scratches? No bites?"

"I'm _fine_, Erik. No scratches or bites." Christine replied, though put a hand to the top of her left breast. It was a little tender, but she wasn't going to tell Erik that.

Unfortunately, her momentary wince as she touched her chest did not escape his notice. "Christine?"

"I'm fine…" she insisted again.

Erik frowned. "Let me see."

Christine began to panic. If Erik was to _see_, then she would have to strip down to her undergarments. "No. I'm ok. And… besides… it's kinda... in a very private place…"

"Take off your jacket and do not argue with me! This is a matter of your health!" he scolded.

When he saw she wasn't budging, he took a deep breath, and slid his mask off.

"There." He indicated his face. "Now we are both exposed!" His tone then grew softer, "If you are hurt, I must know."

Christine swallowed nervously. His tone of voice was not to be ignored, and the pleading in his eyes made her heart ache.

With a shaky breath, and even shakier hands, she unzipped the jacket and slid it off her shoulders, baring her burgundy and black silk bra to the man before her.

She only hoped he wouldn't notice the generous padding sewn into it.

"I know this is uncomfortable, but I will need to… to _inspect _you, for lack of a better word," he informed her.

Christine's cheeks flushed red as she crossed her arms protectively across her chest.

"Please, angel? Pretend I'm your doctor," Erik offered as he gently took her wrists and pulled her arms back to her side.

"My doctor is a woman named Winnie Zhang," Christine muttered as she fought the instinct to bring her arms back up.

"If it helps any, I will speak in a high-pitched voice," he offered absently as he slowly brushed his fingers across her collarbone, brow furrowed in concentration.

His fingers slid over the dark bruise on the upper swell of her left curve. She winced as he pressed lightly. He felt a small bump beneath, but the skin had not been broken. For that, he was grateful.

He walked around her back, not easing up on the contact against her skin incase he could _feel _something he couldn't _see_.

Christine shuddered ever so lightly, feeling Erik's breath upon her bared shoulders as he leaned in closer.

Erik, for his part, attempted to make casual conversation.

"So tell me how you've been doing in your classes as of late. I do hope Antoinette isn't being overly harsh," he said. "She is not the most subtle of teachers. If she finds that you are horrid, she will tell you."

Christine's snicker turned to a gasp as his fingers traveled sensually down her spine and across her lower back - though she knew _sensual_ was not his intent.

Such things could not be helped, however, considering the grace with which his musician's hands inspected.

"I have actually seen some of Antoinette's students run off crying." he continued as he walked around front, his fingers sliding to the bruise once again.

"This will look worse in the morning," he warned her. Erik lowered himself to his knees, still deep in concentration. "Are you injured anywhere else?" he asked as brushed his hands across her abdomen, unintentionally making Christine quiver.

_God help me…_ she begged silently, realizing it was not embarrassment she was currently feeling, but something else entirely.

"Erik…" Christine whimpered as he stroked her ribs.

He looked up at her quickly, concerned. "Does that hurt?"

"N-no."

He raised a hairless eyebrow, "Are you sure? If it does-"

"No. It doesn't. I promise," she assured him.

"You're shivering, angel," Erik noted.

Christine swallowed. "I'm just cold," she said quickly, though she knew that was not what was causing her reaction.

Erik finally stood up and turned away politely. "I apologize. Of course, you're still chilled from being outside," he said. "Cover yourself now, and please tell me if you find anything amiss in the next day or so. I won't have you suffering injuries that need immediate attention."

"O-ok. I-I'll let you know." Christine answered as she quickly pulled the jacket back on.

When she was suitably covered, she went up to Erik and touched his arm, turning him to face her. "Thank you," she said softly.

"I only wanted to make sure you were unharmed, that's all," he answered as he cupped her cheek. "I hope I did not cause you undue stress."

"No," she said with a small smile, "it was fine." She was quiet for a moment, then bit her lip nervously, almost afraid to ask him the question that had been on her mind since they had arrived.

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

She looked around nervously, then finally met his eyes. "Can I… can I help you out more often?"

"After what happened here?" he asked. "I cannot allow that!"

"I don't mean that I want to be out there helping you fight … but if you need someone to accompany you, if you need to investigate something like this, then I want to help. Please?"

"It's _dangerous_, Christine!"

"You think I don't know that?" she insisted. "Hello? I was attacked by a big furry thing not more then ten minutes ago! And I _still _want to help!"

Erik took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "We will talk about it in the morning."

"You're not just saying that to delay telling me _no_, are you?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No, we WILL talk about it." He took her face in his hands. "_If_ you go to sleep now, that is." He added. Erik brushed his lips against her forehead. "Goodnight, angel."

Christine nodded and quickly made herself comfortable in her cot, Erik's own cot on the other side of the room.

"Goodnight, Erik," Christine replied once the trailer was bathed in darkness.

_If I can actually SLEEP, that is…_ she thought, for the tingle upon her skin from Erik's graceful hands had left an unfulfilled ache deep within her body, in a certain place she dared not mention.

For once, Christine was grateful that the cots were too small to share. It was enough her dreams had been less-than-innocent as of late. Tonight, they would be downright vivid.

**END OF EPISODE 36**


	37. Episode 37: Haunted

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir **_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 37: Haunted

By: Elektra

_"Bring him over here!" the chubby redheaded boy began as he ordered his twin brothers to drag the young boy they were holding over to the fence. "Quick, get the handcuffs!" _

Their 13-year old victim did not protest, nor did he struggle as they chained him up. He remained utterly silent, which irked the two boys holding him.

"Hey, Nicky… the freak keeps tryin' to scare us. Look at his eyes!" said one of the twins.

Nicky stumbled back, trying to hide his discomfort at the darkness he saw in that amber glare. "Man… you're just as freaky INSIDE!"

"Umm… what if his parents come lookin'?" That was the other twin.

Nicky laughed, "He don't got no parents. Not real ones anyway. Did you tell everyone it'll be two bucks to see him without the mask?"

The first twin nodded. "Yup! I say we strip him too so they can see how ugly the rest of him is."

The boy was naked in seconds.

"Ewww… look how bony he is!" Nicky pointed out. "Gross! You can see his ribs and veins and stuff!" He then leaned down and looked into the younger boy's face. "You gonna cry yet? We're waitin'"

The boy said nothing.

Seeing that they weren't going to get a vocal response from him, they attempted a physical response, using their father's belt to force the boy to show some sort of emotion.

He simply gritted his teeth and remained silent as he felt his skin welt and tear. He began to feel blood trickling down his back, but paid no heed. It would be over soon. They would grow bored… or tired.

Or maybe his foster parents would find him and realize what was happening.

But he knew that was a fool's hope.

So he struggled to break free.

He fought to tear the cuffs from his wrists, but only tore the skin instead.

For five days he remained there.

And no one ever came.

No one ever would.

Erik's lids flew open and he found himself staring up into a pair of worried blue eyes, the warm weight on his chest and the tiny hands wrapped around his wrist told him he was currently being pinned in a rather undignified position.

"Christine?"

She had taken to spending a few nights in his room, either watching a DVD, playing video games, or simply getting help with her homework. On occasion – such as tonight - he would take her to the opera, and she would later crash beside him.

"Are you okay?" she asked breathlessly. "You were flailing all around like crazy. I had to stop you. I… I was scared you'd hurt yourself…" She slowly released his wrists, her fingers gently sliding down his arms.

She did not say them, but Erik could hear her unspoken words - _or me…_

He closed his eyes and released a breath.

She still _feared _him. As much as Christine believed she loved him – though he himself still had trouble coming to terms with that fact – the fear would always be there.

Now freed, his arms came up around her little waist, hugging her reassuringly and attempting not to respond as she relaxed fully atop him, her petite form molding to his larger one perfectly.

Why had he never noticed how thin her cotton cami was before? He could _feel_ her through it. _Too much _of her, in fact. And his hands, now resting at the small of her back, encountered only warm skin, the inadequate cloth having slid up her torso as she had tried to restrain him.

He swallowed hard when he realized it was not only his hands in contact with her skin, for he could feel her revealed stomach pressed against his bare abdomen as well.

He wondered what it would be like to feel every inch of her soft skin pressed against his. To touch her as he had never dared touch her, to kiss his angel from the top of her sweet little head to the tips of little ballerina toes, leaving nothing out in between.

Erik silently cursed himself as he bit back a groan.

"Erik? Tell me you're okay." Christine repeated as she rested her head upon his shoulder and nuzzled her face against his neck.

It took him a moment to realize she was speaking about his restless sleep.

"Just an unpleasant memory resurfacing. Nothing to worry about." He said nothing more on the matter.

Erik reminded himself he was no longer the skinny skeletal boy who had been handcuffed and whipped for the pleasure of the neighborhood bullies. He was now a full-grown man who could easily break away from such attacks and seriously harm the perpetrators...

_…Or kill them… _he admitted.

He pressed a bony cheek against Christine's softer one and closed his eyes for a moment. It was so very nice to feel warm skin against his face rather than a cotton mask.

"I must go away on some Guild business next weekend," he began. "To a town where I lived for a short while with a foster family."

"Go on," she encouraged, her lips brushing his neck.

Erik shuddered slightly at the contact, but managed to keep his voice neutral. "Currently, scouts are trying to find more information about the strange events that have been happening there. People have spoken of deaths of a _questionable _nature. Bodies burned."

Erik reigned in the shakiness that was threatening his voice as Christine shifted her body atop his.

"We do not usually have such assignments, but since no evidence was found to support a _physical _cause of death, Leroux suggested we take a look. I am to be there should physical force be needed. And since it is a fair distance away, they wish to have me on-site."

Christine said nothing, knowing what he meant. If these deaths were of a dark nature, then the Executioner would be needed to take care of the perpetrator.

"Would you like to keep me company?"

She raised her head, surprised. "You're actually offering?" she smiled. "And here I thought you wanted to keep me out of harm's way."

"You WILL be out of harm's way. Should I be needed, you will _not _be joining me on the job," Erik met her eyes, voice soft as he brushed his fingers down her cheek. "I do not want you to see that side of me, Christine. It is enough you know it exists."

She took a deep breath and nodded, reaching out to brush a lock of hair off his forehead. "You might need _me_," she said. _To bring you back…_ she added silently.

Erik nodded.

"I'll come. How are we getting there?"

"I am driving, of course," he answered.

"Ah ok," Christine responded, then furrowed her brow as she recalled what he had just said. "Wait - you _drive_?"

* * *

**Friday Evening**

Christine held on for dear life to the man before her as the motorcycle raced down the street. "I'm gonna die!" she shouted fearfully. "I'm so gonna die!"

"When I told you I was driving, you did not seem nearly as worried," Erik shouted back to her over the almost deafening noise.

"I thought you meant a CAR. With DOORS. And a ROOF... and SEATBELTS! Why didn't you ever tell me you had a BIKE?"

"I only use it when I must travel a fair distance for business – guild or architectural." He shrugged. "Since I had no need to take you on it, it never came up." He suddenly turned into a gas station and brought the bike to a stop.

Christine stood frozen for a few moments, trying to stop her pounding heart from tearing through her chest. "Never again..." she muttered. "Never ever again!"

"Beloved," Erik began as he climbed off and removed his helmet, "You WILL need to make use of it again if we are to get to our destination and back."

Christine yanked the helmet off and shook her hair out. It was, Erik decided, quite attractive. Christine, however, having caught her reflection in the mirrors of the bike, thought otherwise. "Ugh. I have helmet hair."

"Your hair is fine." Erik answered.

Christine pouted. "Maybe I'll find a bus… or something."

"Ah... yes... I believe a bus will be here sometime on Monday. If you wish to miss Antoinette's class, then by all means, feel free to wait for one."

Christine paled at that. Missing Madame Giry's class was not an option. She would rather take her chances on the motorcycle.

She slid off the seat and hooked the helmet on the handlebars. "I'm going into the store to get some snacks. Want anything?"

"No, but thank you." He said as he popped the gas tank and began to fill up.

Christine nodded and gave Erik a quick kiss on his masked cheek before heading inside. She went over to the snack food and immediately decided what she wanted: A bag of Baked Lays - _low in fat_, she decided; pretzels - _always healthy_; And a chocolate bar – _better hide this from Madame._

Before she could head towards the cash, a large burly male stopped her. "Ain't seen YOU before." He smirked. "Don't got no women as pretty as you 'round here." He stepped closer. "You new?"

"Just passing through," Christine answered, trying to side step him. He moved with her.

"If you're new, I could maybe show you around a bit. Got a nice truck out there." He indicated the gas stop. Christine looked up at him, shook her head, and tried to move past him. "C'mon, I'm just tryin' to be friendly," he protested.

Before Christine could respond, a young man burst through the door of the shop. "He's BACK, Nicky! That masked freak's back in town! He... he's gotten real BIG too!"

Christine's blood turned to ice. _They know Erik?_

She then remembered what he had said about his dream - an unpleasant childhood memory.

Christine glanced at the two men before her. Had they done something to him?

"The freak sucker punched Johnny! For no reason!" the nervous man sputtered.

"Erik doesn't just _sucker punch_ someone!" Christine suddenly snapped at the two men in the store.

Nicky and his brother looked at her, eyes wide. "Tell me you ain't here with HIM!" Nicky gasped.

"I AM here with him," Christine replied. "Excuse me!" She dropped her snacks on the counter and quickly headed out to Erik, seeing him crouching over a prone figure on the cement, taunting him. Yelling and cursing as she had never heard him curse before.

"E…Erik?" she approached him slowly, cautiously resting a hand upon his shoulder. Erik froze, lifting his head and straightening his back. He did not turn to her.

Only then did she see the black cotton mask clenched in the hand of the man on the ground. She didn't even take notice of the startled sounds from the men behind her, all her attention focused on Erik alone.

"Erik?" she spoke again, crouching behind him to slip her arms around his neck and place a kiss against the back of his head.

He immediately extricated himself from her embrace and grabbed the mask, replacing it on his face. "We have no time for this."

She looked up at him with concern as he jumped to his feet. "Are you alr-"

"We leave. Now!" he snapped.

"But you didn't pay!" Christine protested.

All she received in answer was the rev of Erik's bike and a harsh "NOW!"

Without another word, she crawled up behind Erik, fastened her helmet, and held on tight as the two raced on to their destination.

* * *

**Huchington Bed and Breakfast – 20 minutes later**

"Hello! Welcome to Huchington Bed and Breakfast!" A cheery middle-aged female greeted Christine as she went up to the check-in desk. "How may I help you?"

"Is this the only Inn here?" Erik asked, coming in behind her. The woman at the desk froze, then remembered herself and plastered on her smile once again.

"Oh, yes sir! This is a small town. We don't really get visitors except those passing through."

Erik sighed inwardly. The lady was desperately trying to pretend his mask wasn't there, but she could not hide the look in her eyes as she stared at him. "We were looking for information on a few dea-"

"On a room!" Christine suddenly interrupted, sparing a quick glance at Erik before she turned back to the lady. "We're only here for the weekend – taking a break from the big city and all," she smiled.

"Of course!" the lady was cheerful once again as she focused her attention on the lovely brunette before her. "Yes, a lot of folks come up here to get away. It's quite peaceful."

"And so pretty too!" Christine responded with a sweet smile.

"Oh indeed!" The lady clapped her hands. "Well now, you need a room. I have a few to chose from. Will you need two beds?" she asked warily, eyes darting between the two before her. There could not be a couple more opposite.

"If possible," Christine offered. "But not necessary."

Erik, for his part, shifted impatiently. Why was Christine wasting her time, and asking about rooms? They needed information, not sleep!

"Well, I have a lovely room with a Queen sized bed and a pullout couch," the lady offered. "$150 for the weekend."

"Do you take cash?" Christine asked. The lady nodded, and Christine turned to Erik and held her hand out. Erik blinked a moment, then realized she expected him to actually pay for the room.

Scowling, Erik pulled out a handful of crisp bills and handed them to Christine, who in turn handed them to the lady before her.

"Thank you," the lady replied, then reached behind her to take something off a hook, "Here's your key. I just need you to sign in and-"

With an unpleasant curse, Erik grabbed the key off the desk and quickly headed outside to grab the duffel bags strapped to his bike.

"He's not a people person," Christine apologized.

The lady nodded sympathetically, then leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I should warn you, my dear. Your beau's… _looks _… may gather some unwanted attention. People here may not be as accepting as those in the big city."

Christine nodded. "We already ran into some trouble at the gas station,"

"Nicky Parsons and his brothers, most likely. Even his son, Nate, torments my Jenny." She suddenly held out a hand, "Oh! I should introduce myself since you'll be staying here for a few days. I'm Alice Laviel, the proprietor of this fine little establishment. If you need anything, just ask."

"My name is Christine. The grumpy guy is Erik," she offered as the two shook hands.

"Let us get to the room already!" Erik practically growled in Christine ear. She let out a startled yelp and turned to him. As usual, she had not even heard him come up to her.

Had he heard her call him _grumpy_?

"Up the stairs and to the left," Alice pointed out. Christine nodded, gave another sweet smile, and followed Erik to their room.

* * *

**Hutchington Bed and Breakfast - Jenny Laviel's Room**

_"Punishment must be dealt," _

A pretty blond girl appeared before her. "They left me here! They left me to die. It's not fair! They got freedom… they got to LIVE!"

She only wished she could back away from the girl before her, but in her dream, there was nowhere to run.

"Why so frightened?" she asked coldly

The child whimpered, but the apparition ignored her.

"Sometimes the ones in the town…" the apparition continued to rant. "Sometimes they come back. I punish them for leaving me! It's fun to watch them scream! Watch them **burn**."

"Punishment must be dealt!"

"Jenny? Jenny, wake up!" a voice shouted, and 11-year old Jenny Laviel felt herself being shaken awake.

Jenny blinked her eyes and looked up into Alice's face. "Momma…" she started.

"Are you ok, honey? You were talking in your sleep… you were going on about some punishment?"

"She killed them!" Jenny began. "She killed them all. All the burned bodies found near the orphanage … she did it!"

"What are you talking about, Jenny? Are you ok, honey?"

"She wants to be free. She'll punish them until she's free…"

* * *

**Erik and Christine's Room – that night**

Erik leaned over Christine's shoulder, noting that she was already dressed in her pajamas.

His eyes skimmed the textbook before her, but his mind was not on her homework. "Why did we get a room?" he demanded.

"Because we can't just waltz in and start talking about dead bodies," Christine answered as she continued with her budgeting assignment. So much went into a stage production…

"How else are we to get information?"

"You make friends," Christine replied as she finally turned to him. "And let's face it, Erik - people are more likely to talk to a nice college girl than a tall scary guy who asks a bunch of cold questions about dead people."

She took his hand in hers. "Trust me on this, ok? You might be super intelligent and all that, but you lack _tact _when it comes to dealing with other people. If you want answers, don't make it so obvious you're asking questions."

"And how do I do that?"

"YOU don't. _I_ do. Alice will be more willing to share while having a nice normal conversation with a curious girl who loves stories." Christine smiled.

Erik simply walked away, hands clenching and unclenching as he muttered incoherently beneath his breath.

Christine studied him for a moment, then furrowed her brow. "Erik, what's wrong? You've been in a mood since we left the gas station." He said nothing. "Listen, if it's about those guys, they were jerks. Just forget them."

"Forget them? That is easy for YOU to say!" he hissed.

Christine was startled by the harshness in his voice. "Well, it's just…I mean… you… you don't even _know _them. You'll never see them again. They're not worth your energy."

He spun on her angrily. "What makes you so certain I don't know them?" he snapped.

Christine was taken aback by the way his golden eyes caught the light, almost glowing with anger. "E-Erik?"

"I _told _you I used to live here. I TOLD you that I had unpleasant memories!" His voice suddenly turned cold. "Want to _see_ my unpleasant memories, Christine?"

Before she could respond, he yanked his shirt off and turned his scarred back to her, "THESE are my unpleasant memories! THESE have branded me for the rest of my life!" He threw the shirt angrily across the room.

"That… that happened _here?_" she asked softly.

"YES, it happened _here_! And did it end when my blood began to stain the grass? Oh no!" He stormed up to her and showed her his scarred wrists, but Christine shrunk away, momentarily frightened.

"LOOK, little angel! Look how your Erik almost cut off his hands to _free _himself from those men! LOOK!" he shouted. Christine quickly turned back to him, not daring to disobey as she glanced at the old scars that decorated his wrists.

"And you say I should FORGET them? I could NEVER forget them!" His hand shot out, sending a lamp flying.

"ERIK!" Christine cried out in response, jumping back as his temper flared.

"I could NEVER forget FIVE days of HELL where I was put on display, my face and body _exposed _for all to see!"

Erik suddenly met her eyes, her blood turning to ice at the dark anger she saw there. "And WHY did they do it? So they could have their _fun_!" he spat. "So they could buy a new game! Is THAT all I am worth to anyone!" He turned his back to her, hitting the wall with the palm of his hand. "IS THAT ALL!"

The room was suddenly silent, the only sound Erik's harsh breathing.

Christine swallowed hard and slowly went up to him. She reached a hand out to touch his back, but returned it to her side.

Instead, she slid her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against the long damaged skin.

"You're worth so much … to _me_…" she spoke softly.

He took a shuddering breath, splaying his fingers over his masked face. He slowly tugged the cotton off and rested his forehead against the white plaster before him.

"I _love _you." Christine's voice was a mere whisper, but he could hear it. He could hear it so very well.

His eyes slid closed as he felt the brush of soft lips against his scarred back, the mask slipping from his fingers and fluttering to the ground.

Christine's tender touch sapped both his strength and his anger. He unlocked her arms from his waist and turned to face her, lowering to his knees before her.

"Erik?"

He simply shook his head as if to tell her to be silent and wrapped his arms around her abdomen, burying his face against her petite chest as he grasped her tightly.

Erik's breathing began to grow deep and slow as Christine soothingly ran her little fingers through his hair, calming his anger as only she could before she took his exposed face in her hands and knelt to be at level with him.

Erik's pent-up emotion found a far more suitable outlet as he pulled her onto his lap, a slender leg on either side, and pressed his mouth hard against hers.

Christine felt herself being lowered to the ground, his kiss still demanding, his hands slipping beneath her cami. She was momentarily reminded there was nothing beneath the thin material, but she didn't seem to care. He needed a soft place to land, and she would be it.

A knock at the door interrupted the moment.

"Christine? Honey? Everything ok in there?"

"It's Alice," Christine replied once she was able to breathe again.

Erik ran his fingers down her flush cheek and tucked a few chocolate curls behind her ear before resting his forehead against hers. Christine saw the change in his eyes and smiled up at him.

"I believe we have some explaining to do." He replied softly, then placed a gentle kiss upon her lips.

Christine put a hand to his cheek. "Are you all good now?" she asked.

"Yes. All good now," he answered, then met her eyes, his voice tender. "Thank you. For being here."

He brushed his lips against her forehead and slid off her, assisting Christine to her feet.

Christine went to the door and opened it.

"Everything ok, honey?" Alice asked.

Christine nodded. "Erik just tripped in the dark and got himself tangled in the lamp cord. It's ok now."

"Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry!" she sighed. "I keep telling my husband he needs to tape down those wires."

"You ok, Erik?" Christine called into the room, knowing Erik was still lacking his mask at the moment and keeping himself hidden from Alice's sight.

"No harm done." He replied.

"Ok dear," Alice answered. "If you two need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

Christine nodded. "Thanks Alice! Good night. Sorry for waking you."

Alice waved away Christine's concern and continued on her way.

"Forgive me, angel. I didn't mean to lose my temper like that." He took a deep breath. "I really should control myself better. It is just… seeing those men again-" He stopped as she wrapped her arms around him, and he knew no more needed to be said.

* * *

**Huchington Library – the next day**

Christine glanced around the small library, having been led there after a friendly conversation with Alice about various urban legends that surrounded the small town.

Alice had mentioned an orphanage across the town bridge that had burned down six years back and how the popular ghost story now was that the children who had died there were seeking revenge on the orphans who had lived.

Alice thought it was all very silly.

Christine did not.

Turning her attention back to the computer before her, her search had found various reports about the goings-on at the orphanage.

One particular name came up – 15-year old Andrea Davens. Christine frowned. This girl had run away three times, and each time seemed more hysterical when forced to return.

She had even threatened the police officers that had brought her back.

Her reaction was extreme, to be sure. Some professionals questioned whether she should be institutionalized, but as she had no family, and therefore no money for treatment— she ended up lost in the system.

Apparently, she also had an obsession with fire. Reports indicated that it was she who had burned the orphanage down and was believed to perish within, though her body was never recovered due to the instability of the building.

Perhaps she would ask Alice if she knew anything about young Miss Davens.

* * *

**Huchington Bed and Breakfast**

Jenny listened carefully as her mother talked to the nice young lady from the city. She was asking about the orphanage across the bridge.

Jenny shivered involuntarily. Not only had she visited that orphanage on a dare from Nate Parsons, but Jenny knew she had once been a resident there - before she had been adopted at age four by Alice Laviel.

_A large room. Burnt wood cracking beneath her feet. The toe of her shoe kicking something that was **not **wood. _

A charred body. Only a few days old.

Jenny tried to force the images from her head. She didn't want to remember what she had found up there two months ago.

She didn't want to remember the words that continued to haunt her dreams to this day.

_"Punishment must be dealt…"_

"Hello?" Christine called out when she heard a soft little gasp from the opened door on the left side of the room.

She heard little footsteps suddenly run down the hall and quickly jumped out of her seat, Alice following quickly behind.

The girl was soon knocked to her rear as she ended up running head-first into a very intimidating Erik.

"And where are YOU going?" he asked.

The little girl's eyes went wide, backing away, only to find Christine behind her. She spun around and shook her head.

"No… I can't… I can't tell!" she gasped out.

Christine furrowed her brow. "Tell what? Do you know what your mom and I were talking about, sweetie?"

Jenny continued shaking her head.

Christine knelt before the girl, meeting her eyes. "Please, honey… if you know something, you need to tell us."

"No!" Jenny cried out. "They think I'm all freaky! The kids at school say I'm all weird and scary 'cuz I have messed up dreams!"

Erik crouched down behind her. "Trust me, girl… I have some idea about _freaks_. Tell us what you know!" His voice was demanding, and Christine offered him a rather annoyed glare.

"Jenny…?" Alice began.

Jenny looked back and forth between Erik, Christine, and her mother, then finally took a deep breath, and focused on Christine once again.

"It's Andrea." she whispered softly. "Andrea's hurting everyone…"

"Jenny!" Alice seemed appalled. "Honey, really! Don't make up stories when we have guests."

"No… wait, Mrs. Laviel." Christine leaned towards the frightened girl. "Jenny? Is Andrea alive?"

"I… I don't know. She shows up in my dreams. She … she says she's waiting… waiting at the orphanage, but I won't go. But…" she looked nervous again, as if debating how much to say.

"Please - go on." Christine urged.

The girl swallowed nervously. "Some of the _others _go. That's when she hurts them." Her face fell, tears streaming, "She scares me! She won't leave me alone!"

"I… I'm so sorry, Christine," Alice apologized hopelessly. "She gets like this sometimes. Nate Parson's dragged her up to the orphanage a while back, and she's been having nightmares ever since."

Christine nodded at that. "It's ok, Alice. She won't be having nightmares for much longer."

"How do you know that?" Alice asked.

Christine glanced at Erik. "A guardian angel will protect her,"

With a nod, Erik stood up and headed off to do what he knew must be done.

* * *

**Nadir Khan's Residence – the next day**

"It seems your beloved proved rather useful, Erik," Nadir spoke into the phone as he sat at the kitchen table. "I am to assume all matters were tended to?" he asked. He nodded at Erik's reply, "Good, good. Perhaps you would like to come for a visit some day then? There is someone here who wants to see you."

Nadir frowned at the response that got.

"Erik…" a pause as he was interrupted. "I am not going to lecture you, Erik. But she is STILL your mother. No… don't you DARE hang up on me, Erik! ERIK!" Nadir shouted into the phone, but received nothing but a dial tone.

With a frustrated sigh, he cradled the handset.

"Please, Mr. Khan… don't bother."

Nadir turned to see Madeline leaning against the wall. She had taken to staying with him out of necessity. Leroux had used his sway to prevent the woman from going back to jail, but she would have to answer to Nadir until her parole was over.

Nadir had agreed to that. His place was rather lonely. And there could be worse company than a lovely woman.

"Madeline, I'm sorry… you weren't meant to hear that."

She shook her head and took the seat across the table from him. "It's ok. I understand his resentment."

She released a breath and hung her head. "I'm ashamed, Mr. Khan. Ashamed and embarrassed that a pretty little girl can love my son when I never could. She sees in him what I refused to because of my own selfishness.

Madeline massaged her temples, a small headache forming. She had been having such headaches off and on since Shay had played with her mind. "Erik wasn't _perfect_. I hated that. I blamed him for driving his father away."

She let out a harsh laugh. "I suppose I should THANK him for that now. Knowing what I know. I was a stupid girl when I met him. He knew that and took advantage of my naiveté."

"Madeline, if I may ask…" Nadir started. "How did you end up in such a line of work, meeting Erik's father?"

She shrugged, "My own father had died in a car crash when I was 14. He left me and my mother destitute. Our poverty wasn't intentional. He just hadn't planned ahead. You think you have forever, you know…"

Madeline shook her head. "Anyway, my mother was a beautiful woman. She used her looks to her advantage and managed to find a rich man to marry her when I was 16. She became his trophy wife, but hardly ever let him touch her. She didn't love him, you see. It was a matter of money, that's all."

She frowned. "Whenever my step-father got _itchy_, he figured I was a good substitute for her." Madeline scowled. "I looked so much like her, after all…" her voice was heavy with sarcasm. "And so I figured, well… hell… I could make some money doing this. I left home before my seventeenth birthday and began my _career_."

"Shay came into my life when I was nineteen. I was already well known by then, so…" she shrugged. "He wanted to see if what he heard was true. He came by regularly, but…"

She stopped, then continued, "Well, this is somewhat embarrassing, Mr. Khan… but I never charged him. He was rather _enjoyable_, so to speak. And I figured if I wanted to keep him around, I might as well let him have the goods for free."

Her voice grew quiet. "I started to fall for him. I know it wasn't real love, but it was love for a man who could possibly rescue me from my life. I never intended to end up pregnant. I thought I had taken enough precautions."

She sighed. "But whatever the hell he was -or _is_ -made those precautions pointless. It was too late when I finally realized what a cold-hearted bastard he was."

Madeline winced and closed her eyes. "Sorry, Mr. Khan. I'm getting another of those headaches. I need to go lie down."

"Go on then," Nadir replied. With a nod of thanks, Madeline left the room.

Nadir dare not voice his concerns, but he couldn't help but worry how much of his father Erik had in him.

* * *

**Dean Giry's Office – Monday afternoon**

"I hear Christine made herself quite useful to you on your assignment," Giry began as Erik dropped down through the air-ducts.

"Yes," he replied shortly, not wanting to be reminded of the fact he had to execute a twenty-one year old girl whose talents had taken not only lives, but her mind as well.

He was only grateful Christine had been waiting for him when he returned to the bed and breakfast.

"I was thinking, Erik… that perhaps Christine should accompany you more often," Giry offered.

"She is not to be used as _bait_, Antoinette!" he snapped angrily.

"You misunderstand. I do not intend for her to follow on normal hunts. But since she is a lovely charming young lady, she could probably assist in cases where information is needed from the locals before action is taken."

"Perhaps she could be, but I will not put her in harm's way!" he insisted.

"Of course not, Erik. I would never have her in such a position," Giry replied.

Erik nodded. "I will ask her if she is interested in assisting us in the future then." He quickly stood up and disappeared through the air-ducts.

Giry sighed. Christine's presence had helped greatly, but it was not the only reason she wanted the girl near Erik.

Erik was always walking a very fine line. It had not escaped the ballet mistress's attention that Leroux's _official _career had led him to finding several local girls strangled to death. Not by _hands_, no. But by a rope. A very _deadly_ rope.

Giry knew that if it was not for Christine, the perpetrator could have very well been Erik. The presence of that girl in his life, however, allowed Giry to believe Erik was innocent of these crimes.

She was his life. The one thing that prevented him from crossing the line and losing himself completely.

At least, this was what Giry hoped for and believed in.

She only prayed her faith had not been misplaced.

**END OF EPISODE 37**


	38. Episode 38: Teacher’s Pet

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir. Especially for the ballet scene in this one **_

A bit of a lighter episode this time

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 38: Teacher's Pet

By: Elektra

**Dean Giry's office**

"Antoinette?"

So caught up in her current paperwork, Giry found herself jumping at the sound of the familiar voice above her head. She quickly glanced up at the air-ducts. "Erik?"

"Who else?" came the answer as Erik's shadowy form dropped down from the grate, his duster billowing out like a cape before settling back into place once again. "You left a message on my voice mail about a new assignment?"

"Yes. One that might be of great interest to you," Giry replied. She met his eyes. "How would you like to join my dance class on a March break field trip?"

She could see Erik's brow furrow beneath the white cotton of his mask. "_Pardon_?"

Of all the assignments Giry could have presented him with, this was certainly not what he had expected.

"We are going to the International College Dance Festival and I was wondering if you would be interested in being our accompanist and sharing your knowledge of music."

"You have never asked me to assist you like this before," Erik replied.

"Well, you have done an admirable job with Christine's music lessons - her professors are quite pleased with her development - and I understand a few of my students already met you at the Halloween Masquerade," she explained. "I feel your skills might be useful to us on this trip."

Giry studied him for a moment, seeing his eyes narrow as he thought about her offer.

"Of course, you will be paid for your work," she explained, hoping the promise of money might persuade him. "Good accompanists are hard to find and I am quite aware of your musical skills." She grabbed a folder and handed him a stapled collection of papers.

"This is an example of the itinerary, if you accept. You will be teaching classes on composition and phrasing in the mornings, and will join us for classes and rehearsals in the afternoons," she informed him.

Erik took the papers and flipped through them, his jaw set in concentration.

"Keep in mind, however," Giry continued, "that your morning classes, while mostly made up of _my _students, may attract some outsiders from various other schools. You would need to be comfortable with that."

"I understand. When do you need an answer?" Erik asked.

"As soon as possible. If you do not want to do it, then I need to find someone else."

Erik took a deep breath and thought about it. Hopefully he would be given a reprieve from stares and whispers if he were presented as an authority figure.

He turned to Giry again. "It will be only for a week?" he asked. Giry nodded. "And I will be well paid for my time?" She nodded again. "And I will be able to spend time with Christine?"

Giry knew this question was coming. "Christine will be busy for most of the mornings, afternoons, and evenings, you understand. This will be a hectic trip," she pointed out, "But since you will be considered freelance and NOT an official representative of Ravelle, who you fraternize with in your spare time will be _your _business, no one else's."

He nodded. "Very well, Antoinette. I will take you up on your offer." He made to leave, but Giry had one more thing to say.

"Erik, I am going to need you to wear dress pants and a button down."

Erik simply stared at her, incredulous at such a request.

"Is there a problem?" Giry asked.

"Yes. I do not believe I _own _something like that."

"Perhaps Christine should take you shopping then." She replied.

Erik frowned. "She rather likes my clothing as it is."

"You need to look somewhat formal, Erik."

"Antoinette…" he began in a warning tone.

"Dress appropriately – or I _will_ find someone else."

Erik was silent for a moment.

Finding someone else would mean he would be left alone during the week long break – and he had become far too used to Christine's company for that. "Perhaps I should go shopping after all."

"Thank you, Erik."

With one last glare and a muffled curse, Erik disappeared into the air-ducts once again.

* * *

**Ravelle Chartered Coach – Three weeks later**

Jammes and Sorelli were displeased as they glanced over at Christine and Erik, currently sitting a few seats away playing Texas Hold'em with Meg for the contents of her box of _Smarties_.

"Why does Chrissy get to bring HER guy and I had to keep MINE back at school?" Jammes pouted.

"Because I have asked him to help out." Giry answered when she heard the complaint. "Erik is well-versed in musical composition, and he will be teaching our class about such matters every morning for the next week."

"But… why?" Jammes asked.

Giry seemed put out at the question. "You DO realize there is more to ballet then simply _dancing_, Jammes? I want my students to _understand _the way a score is composed. It makes for better dance."

Jammes paled at this bit of information. "You mean, we actually have to learn MUSIC?"

It took all Giry's inner-strength not to throttle the girl.

Sorelli finally spoke up. "So wait… are you saying _Erik _is going to be our superior?"

"She is," Erik answered, having over-heard Sorelli's incredulity. "And you would do well to act more respectfully towards me." He smirked coldly, "Or I can make this a very unpleasant trip indeed."

Sorelli frowned at him, then turned back to Giry. "Shouldn't this be illegal or something?" she asked. "I mean, to get a student's _boyfriend _to teach us?"

"Not when he has skills beneficial to the class, no," Giry replied, "And considering he is _not _a Ravelle employee, there should be no concern over his personal relationships either." She then raised an eyebrow. "However, you will henceforth refer to him as SIR, not _Erik_, while he is teaching."

"And Sorelli…" Giry quickly added before the girl could say more, "I WILL be expecting you to learn from him and to use that knowledge in MY class. Otherwise you may be stuck with me far longer than you would like."

Sorelli swallowed nervously at that and turned away. "Yes, Madame," she replied ashamedly, her protests now thoroughly silenced.

Erik chuckled quietly at Sorelli's public admonishing. _My, but this is going to be a fun week!_

* * *

**Garrison Convention Centre – Seminar room #6 (the next day)**

Erik stood at the front of the room, studying the faces of the students before him. He was in a foul mood, the security guards giving him the third degree upon his entrance to the building.

For some reason, they had trouble believing a tall, intimidating masked man had any right to be there… and kindly pointed out that the _Horror _convention was three blocks down.

It had taken Giry quite some time to convince the guards that Erik was indeed in the right place, and there at her behest.

And now, every young man and woman in this room was staring at him.

_You are their teacher_, Erik had to remind himself. _Where else would you expect them to look?_

With a deep breath, Erik turned to the dry erase board and brushed a self-conscious hand over his mask and through his tied-back hair, checking that all was in place before picking up a red marker and writing the words _Igor Stravinsky_ in large scrawling letters across the top.

_Pretend you are merely teaching Christine. Pretend she is the only one here, _he thought to himself. _She would come to you for help on this regardless. The others do not exist._

Erik focused all his attention on the petite brunette with the beautiful blue eyes as he opened his backpack and placed a pile of paper neatly on the chair beside him, indicating that she take the pile and hand each student an information packet before he began.

"Igor Stravinsky," he said once everyone had their papers, "was a Russian composer who developed an international reputation for composing numerous ballet suites, some of which you may have heard or even danced to. He was considered by many to be the greatest composer of the 20th century."

Erik was silent for a moment, noticing that he had somehow captured the attention of all the female occupants in the room. They seemed, in fact, to be hanging on his every word.

He glanced towards Christine, brow furrowing beneath the pale cotton mask as if to ask her why he suddenly had such a rapt audience.

She simply smiled and mouthed two words:

_Your voice_.

This earned an agreeable nod from Little Giry, who had witnessed the silent interaction while she sat beside her friend.

Of course. How could he forget? Christine had commented on the effect of his timbre on more than one occasion.

_Whatever works… _he thought, then proceeded to use his voice to the fullest extent as he continued.

"If you will forgive me getting technical for a moment, Stravinsky was best known for using a short pulse unit which fell into irregularly occurring groups of 2's, 3's or 4's, creating a constantly changing metric accentuation and necessitating new time signatures to almost every bar."

Although still enraptured by his voice, he heard some very audible sounds of confusion from the students.

"Sir?" A voice spoke up. Erik turned to see a boy he was unfamiliar with raising his hand. No doubt a student from another school. "Um… why do we need to know this? It seems like a waste of time."

Erik focused his attention on the blonde teenager who dared question his lesson plans.

"_Boy_," he hissed. "I have been asked to teach all of you how to distinguish the underlying tempo in a piece of music when you interpret your dances. If you have issue with that, you may take it up with your professors!"

He then stepped forward threateningly, amber eyes focused on the intimidated student. "Though I trust you do NOT have issue with that!"

The young man shook his head, eyes wide. "No sir. Not at all!" He sputtered quickly, then bowed his head low. "Sorry. Go on."

"Well thank you for your kind permission!" Erik spat icily, then turned to the rest of the class. "Any other questions regarding the relevancy of my teachings?"

There was an audible muttering in the negative, and Erik offered a self-satisfied smirk. "Very well then. We will continue."

* * *

**Hallway – Two hours later**

"Did you see that teacher from Ravelle?"

Christine's ears perked up at the sound of two unknown girls gossiping behind her.

"What the hell was he wearing on his face?"

She glanced at Meg, who waved her hand as if Christine should ignore the talk.

"He's probably one of those eccentric freaks - artsy and all that. Maybe he thinks he's some kind of special!"

Christine frowned, hands clenching into fists.

"Chrissy, let's just walk on…" Meg offered.

"Walk on when people are talking about my boyfriend behind my back?" she snapped, then turned to the gossipy girls behind her.

"Are you two _that_ shallow that you'd insult a man with his talent and intelligence because he's a little eccentric? How about you shut the hell up before I'll tell your professors you're being disrespectful!"

The girls paled at that and silenced their conversation before immediately walking past Christine and Meg.

* * *

**Garrison Convention Centre – Two days later**

When Christine and Meg finished changing in the washroom , they pulled thick knitted socks over their soft ballet shoes to make the trek to the ballroom. As they neared the large door and the sign that said, "Intermediate Ballet," Christine could already hear the rolling melodies off the lone piano. Meg smiled at her.

"You know, I wouldn't think he'd have to warm up."

Christine shrugged as she pulled the door open. The piano was in the corner of the room, turned at an angle so that Erik could have a view of the dancers as he played. She noted several girls already stretched out on the hard ballroom floor, chatting and pulling their legs into ridiculous positions. Turning to see if Erik was catching any of this posturing, Christine gaped at the sight before her.

About seven dancers were hanging around the piano: some simply listening, one or two moving gently to the music, improvising little waltzes or port de bras gestures.

A boy of no more than 19 peered over Erik's shoulder, intently watching his hands fly across the keys. Christine recognized one of the groupies as Holly, another Ravelle student, who smiled a little too warmly at Erik for Christine's tastes.

Holly clasped her hands behind her back, arching and stretching her shoulders, and Erik looked up to view her movement. As he neared the end of the piece , Christine watched hotly as one of the dancing girls did a double pirouette, only to land gently on her knee beside Erik's bench, her arms outstretched to him dramatically.

Soft clapping followed. Christine and Meg set their bags down in one corner and added their applause. Erik caught Christine's eye, and began to stand from the piano. Christine shook her head and smiled; while in class, he was the accompanist, she the dancer, and never the twain shall meet. He watched her and Meg grab chairs to serve as ballet barres, and settle themselves right in front of him.

_I ought to refrain from talking to him, but that doesn't me I can't give him a good view while we work_, she reasoned.

The room filled quickly as class was less then five minutes from starting. James and Sorellli pranced in and took front row spaces next to Christine and Meg. "I hope your boyfriend is a decent pianist," said Sorelli. "I mean, does he even know about ballet? How to play for a class?"

Meg grabbed her foot and pulled her leg straight over her head. "Oh Sorelli, don't worry! I'm sure you'll be able to work on your balances just fine." Christine stifled a smirk: Sorelli was forever in competition with Meg over such things as numbers of fouetté turns or duration of balances in a difficult positions. She snuck a glance over to Erik, who regarded the conversation intently.

"I'm not worried at _me_, Meg. I'm worried about the noobs from other schools. I mean, surely it would look bad if no one could follow Ravelle's accompanist."

Meg let her leg down and stalked over to Sorelli. "Given what I've heard him play already, I'm looking forward to class. It'll be refreshing to have someone other than Dan the "I only know one Brahms tune" Man or lifeless CDs."

As Christine touched a hand to her hair, checking to make sure her bun was secure, she heard Madame Giry enter with a sharp command: "Ladies and gentleman, first position, left hand on the barre." Meg scampered back to her chair and winked at Christine.

Antoinette stepped over to Erik, saying softly, "This is the plié exercise. I need a 4 count introduction, then 10 8s and a 8 count break for them to change sides."

Erik frowned. "Tell me that's not how you teach them to count music."

"Well, that's why they need you here at this convention. To right the wrongs of a centuries-old oral tradition," said Antoinette with a smile.

Erik watched Christine and Meg move in and out of positions gracefully. He observed that Christine furrowed her brow in concentration during the quick battement tendu combinations, and that Meg could indeed extend her leg nearly to her head without the use of her hands.

At the end of the développé exercise, Antoinette waved her hand at him to stop playing while the dancers attempted to balance in attitude as long as possible; one by one they dropped away until only Meg and a young man from another school stayed perilously perched on the balls of their feet.

Antoinette tapped her cane twice on the ground, at which Meg gently extended her leg into arabesque and closed her body into a tight fifth position. She looked over at her mother and Erik just beyond her: Antoinette nodded and the silent accompanist regarded her with a look of appreciation.

The dancers struck the chairs to the side of the room as Antoinette demonstrated the first center exercise. She indicated for the dancers to divide up into four groups, so Meg and Christine stayed together in Group One.

As Erik played a sumptuous adagio for them, Christine felt herself relaxing into the movement as she'd never done before. Her leg went slightly higher in développé, she felt her center more keenly, and she even indulged in the delicate port de bras, letting her head tilt softly upstage as she bared her neck the way Madame Giry always commanded them to.

As they left the floor, Meg whispered to Christine, "Best adagio I've ever done."

"Mhm," agreed Christine, as they watched the next group dance.

When it came time for the petit allégro, Christine flushed a little. This wasn't her best part of class, and she didn't want to mess up royally in front of Erik. She and Meg marked the exercise next to Sorelli and Jammes, both of whom simply gestured with their hands to learn the combination.

"Let's have Group Two on the floor, please," said Antoinette with a quick rap of the cane. Christine thought she saw Erik smirk as Jammes and Sorellli took their place in the front.

When his hands launched into the introduction, Christine watched in horror and amusement as Erik purposely obscured the downbeat, leaving Jammes and Sorelli fumbling over their feet. Sorelli stopped dancing and stood with her hands on her hips.

Madame Giry brought her cane down mercilessly. "NO!" she roared, and narrowed her eyes at the girl. "How dare you stop in the middle of the exercise?"

Sorelli dropped her hands from her hips immediately and clasped them behind her back. "I'm sorry Madame. The music was simply indecipherable."

Erik stared at her. "Certainly not. The 'counts,' as you call them, were obvious. You, however, must not have been paying attention in my class. Otherwise, they would have been apparent and you wouldn't have lumbered through Madame's choreography."

Sorelli's eyes widened and her cheeks burned. Antoinette rapped her cane again. "Never stop a combination in the middle, regardless! A disgrace to yourself and your craft! Group One, on the floor, NOW!"

Meg squeezed Christine's hand. "Get in the second row, right behind me. I think I can follow the beat, and you can watch me if you want." Christine nodded and they ran out to the center. Antoinette gestured to Erik, and he began to play.

The notes were still somewhat obscure, but Christine could hear the downbeat being ever so deliberately accented this time. She lifted her chin and deepened her plié to jump higher, sensing that Erik was slightly slowing the tempo when he knew the dancers would be airborne.

As they landed finally in fifth positions all around, she held her stance as Erik looked at her and winked. Her shoulders shook with tight laugher as Antoinette called forth the next group.

Erik kept up this game as the class progressed to combinations across the floor. The other dancers shied away from Sorelli and Jammes, who never seemed to be able to count correctly or perform the exercises with any modicum of grace.

Christine, however, enjoyed a little extra time to land her pirouettes—_Erik must have noticed that I can't turn very fast_, she mused—and richer music for her balancé, which only encouraged her to bend her upper body more than ever to Madame's approval.

Meg started going with different groups than Christine: for her, the tempo was crisp during turns and legato when as she leapt into her tour jetés, inspiring her to nearly float in the air before landing in correctly placed positions.

As they prepared for the final combinations before révérance, Sorelli butted her way next to Meg. "Seems like you are always able to count the music. Mind if I join you?"

"Suit yourself," Meg said, aloof as she stretched her feet and rolled her ankles.

From the moment the music started, Meg was in heaven: Erik held out the note for Meg's first pique arabesque so that Sorelli had to come down before her, then sped up slightly for the pas de bourée and transitional steps. Meg easily kept up with him, breaking into a smile as he again gave her musical room to indulge her suspended positions.

She leapt higher than she ever had, turned into the spiral of a sutenu with ease, then floated a grand jeté effortlessly only to step up into a final attitude balance, her arms extended and her chin lifted.

When at last she came down, the whole room gave a discrete round of applause, including Erik. Antoinette nodded sharply at Meg, then turned to Erik with warm eyes.

As they performed the final combination— the ritualistic bowing sequence— Erik was taken aback when the little clapping dancers turned from Madame Giry to bow for him and clap again. He shifted uncomfortably on the bench and hesitantly acknowledged their thanks. Christine and Meg clapped a little louder before breaking with the rest of the group to gather bags and towel off.

* * *

**Garrison Hotel, Room #665 (that night)**

"Erik! Stop eating the poker chips." Christine muttered as Erik raised another piece of crunchy caramel popcorn to his mouth. He looked down at his pile of so-called tokens and realized most of them had made their way to his stomach.

"Well, since I was winning, I thought I would grant you ladies a reprieve," he answered.

Meg and Christine simply stared at him.

"Surely you don't expect me to regurgitate them?" he asked.

Meg wrinkled her nose. "No. But thanks for that mental image."

Erik glanced over at the clock on the night-table. "Either way, it is time for you ladies to retire to your room. You have an early class in the morning."

"Oh yes. Because I love starting my day with a grumpy music teacher," Meg frowned.

"I was not _that_ grumpy, was I?" he asked as he glanced at Christine.

"Beloved," Christine started. "you almost made a student piss his pants when you yelled at him the first day."

"Hmmm… I seem to have that effect on college boys," he mused. This earned an appreciative snicker from Meg, as she knew he had had a previous effect on her ex.

"Truth be told," Erik continued, "I am taking this job quite seriously. I do not fail when a task is presented to me."

Meg glanced at Christine, eyebrow raised. "Maybe he'll end up living up to your dreams after all."

"MEG!" Christine hissed, her face flushed.

"Angel?" Erik glanced at the brunette, brows furrowed beneath his white mask.

"Umm… uh…" Christine bit her lower lip. "No lusty dreams. None at all!"

"_Lusty_?" Erik repeated.

"Oh please," Meg rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you've never noticed Chrissy's affection for you goes beyond this whole sappy _emotional _thing you two got going."

She ran her eyes over him for a moment. "And seriously, Erik… considering the way you're dressed right now, can you really blame her?"

"GOD, Meggy!" Christine sputtered, her face turning an even brighter shade of red as Erik self-consciously crossed his arms.

"It's… comfortable…" he muttered quickly. Meg was quite sure he was blushing beneath the mask.

"You should come to class like that," Meg indicated the black t-shirt, form-fitting trousers, and knee-high leather boots he had put on once he had changed out of the _teacher-wear_. "The girls – and some of the guys even – would certainly pay more attention to you." She shrugged. "Not necessarily what you were _saying_, mind you."

"_Thank_ you, Little Giry!" Erik interrupted. "Were you not just leaving?"

"Was I? " she asked, then stood up suddenly, a smirk on her face. " And here I wanted to thank you for making me look good in class. Chrissy won't mind if I take you with me and _show _you my gratitude, will she?"

Ducking a flying pillow thrown by Christine, a laughing Meg rushed out of the room, leaving the remaining two quite alone.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Erik finally spoke. "Popcorn?" he indicated the remains of their game on the table.

Christine nodded and took a handful of the treat, nibbling on it quickly.

"Care to tell me about these dreams?" he asked.

He received her answer in the form of a hard kernel beaning him on the head. He quickly caught the offending treat as it fell and popped it into his mouth.

"I will take that as a _no_ then," he muttered as he stood up to stretch.

Before Erik could sit down again, Christine suddenly jumped into his arms. His reflexes catching her quickly, "Chris-"

He could not finish, her mouth suddenly upon his. With an encouraging brush of her tongue, his lips parted as her fingers slid into his hair, nails gently pressing against his scalp.

When they broke away, Erik was struck silent unable to do anything but stare at the amorous girl before him.

Christine smiled shyly, her cheeks flushed as she tried to catch her breath. "I've wanted to do that all day - but somehow I didn't think it would have been appropriate in the middle of class."

She studied him for a few moments, tracing a finger down his mask. "There's something about you. You make me want to-" She stopped, not daring to say more. "Um… I just… love you… that's all," she said quickly.

She could see from the confounded look in Erik's eyes that he had no clue what she was talking about. "Does this have to do with what Little Giry was saying about your _dreams_?"

She brushed her lips over his ear, whispering gently. "Maybe I'll tell you about them someday."

Erik swallowed hard and released a shaky breath, then remembered how he was holding her.

"Christine… I…" He awkwardly tried to shift his hands from her backside to elsewhere, but doing so would have sent her crashing to the ground.

Christine's giggle was almost musical. "Erik, you can keep them there. I'm not offended." She rested her forehead against his. "But I love the whole shy and gentlemanly thing: it's cute." Her fingers slipped beneath his mask to brush his cheek. "Don't ever stop."

Erik nodded, taken aback by her choice of words. Of all the things he had been called in his life, _cute _was never one of them.

Her mouth met his lightly, growing to a deeper kiss. Her arms snaked around his neck, her legs his waist. Instinctively, his hands tightened their grip on her backside, bringing forth a small gasp from Christine, but no end to the kiss.

"Sir?" came a female voice through the door. "I was told your room was here. I heard you playing piano for the Ravelle students."

Christine and Erik exchanged confused glances before he placed her back on her feet.

Erik cautiously went to the door, his suspicious nature coming into full effect. Why would a student from another school seek him out?

He quickly glanced around the room, making sure his could grab a weapon should the need arise, then glanced through the door's peephole.

A young blonde girl stood waiting patiently. He frowned at her odd choice in clothing – what little of it there was consisted of a short white tube top and low-rise blue jeans that seemed far too tight. Considering it was still a chilly March, there was no way she could possibly be comfortable in such clothing.

Erik looked back over at Christine and shrugged, then opened to door to see what the girl wanted from him.

"May I help you?" he asked coldly.

"Oh!" the girl gasped, startled by his current choice of clothing. She looked suitably intimidated, and far too appreciative.

Erik stood impatiently, waiting for her to speak.

"I… I'm Leslie," she smiled sweetly as she held a hand out. Erik ignored it and she brought it back to her side. "I… wanted some music advice and I was told you were the best person to ask. Can I come in?"

Christine immediately joined Erik's side, looking less than pleased.

Leslie seemed rather surprised to find that Erik had company and took a few steps back.

"Sorry. I didn't know you were busy. Maybe another time." She turned and headed down the hall before either Erik or Christine could ask her any more.

Erik tilted his head out the door for a moment, then turned back to Christine. "I feel as if I've missed something," he said.

Christine shook her head. "Beware scantily clad girls asking for music advice after hours." She replied as she turned back to the room.

Erik shut the door behind him and faced her. "If I recall, we met under rather similar circumstances."

"Um… well… that… that was _different_!" she insisted. "I mean… I didn't even know you'd be in the Arts building and… uh…" She sat on the bed. "Ok. Never mind. But trust me! My intentions were NOT the same as _hers_ were." She then silently added, _at least, not back then._

"And what _were_ her intentions?"

Christine looked at him, eyes wide. "You seriously don't know, do you?" she realized.

He shrugged. "I'm afraid my knowledge is woefully inadequate when it comes to females."

She let out a deep breath. Her poor Erik couldn't understand that a handsome face was not the end all and be all when it came to a woman's attraction to a man.

"Um… not important. Probably just wanted, you know… counting lessons or… something," she answered before she flopped back on Erik's bed and kicked off her shoes. "I'm dead tired right now." she muttered.

Erik hovered beside the bed Christine had currently made herself comfortable on. "Last I checked, you were assigned to stay with Little Giry, beloved."

She cracked her eyes open ever so slightly. "I'll just take a quick nap. I'll leave in a bit."

The masked man released a soft sigh and sat down on the bed, studying the girl curled on her side.

"While I do appreciate your company, I _am _supposed to be somewhat professional. Antoinette informed me that we are free to eat together and associate with one another… but if the other students find you leaving my room in the middle of the night, we would hear no end of it. As if that young lady who was just here was not enough."

Christine waved away his concern. "My room is only three doors away from you. I can leave quickly without anyone wondering why I'm walking down the hall."

"Sneaking around is _my _specialty," he said. "I don't know if I should be worried or impressed that you have picked such a skill up."

Christine's hand wrapped around his arm, tugging Erik down beside her. "I'm tired. Let's just sleep."

He saw his protests would be useless and quickly proceeded to divest himself of his boots, shirt and mask before making himself comfortable beside her, a click of the lamp dousing the room in darkness.

"Just be sure you leave shortly. You have a morning class, remember? With a rather brilliant teacher, I might add."

"Modest, aren't we?" she smiled. Christine snuggled closer, her voice growing soft. "Erik…?"

"Yes Christine?"

"I kind of like that your knowledge is… _woefully inadequate_…" Christine replied as she brought his mouth to hers.

He slid his arms around her and pulled her against him, deepening the kiss as her fingers trailed down his back, gently brushing over the scars.

"I thought…" he pulled his mouth away for a moment, "that you wanted to take a nap?"

"I prefer the smooching."

"You had no plans to return to your room tonight, did you?" He asked.

"None at all," she answered. "Good night." She gave him a quick peck on the chin, then tucked her head beneath it, allowing sleep to take her shortly after.

**END OF EPISODE 38**


	39. Episode 39: Double Date

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir. **_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 39: Double Date

By: Elektra

**Erik's room**

Erik ducked a left fist, then a right. He had never come upon an opponent like this. She was wild, uncontrollable…

… and he couldn't bear to hurt her.

"Angel, stop!" he gasped as he grabbed Christine's tiny wrists and held them out. "You must concentrate better. You are punching blindly. First…" he took her hand in his, folding the little fingers over into a proper fist. "You do not want to hurt yourself. You want to make an impact on your opponent, not take the brunt of it to your hand."

Christine nodded.

"And do not forget your defensive stance." He held his arms up in front of him, bent at the elbow, fists ready. "You aim left with your right, and right with your left. You keep the opposing arm ready to block any strikes coming at you."

"Sounds easy in theory, not so easy when my life is on the line," Christine protested. "I doubt a mugger is going to care about proper stance."

"You do have a point. However, with enough practice, it will become second nature to you." He took a few steps back.

"Now, come at me. Try to knock my legs out from under. I want to see if you have the proper technique. You remember what I showed you?"

Christine took a deep breath and ran at Erik, her foot shooting out. He remained standing, unaffected.

"That was my shin, not my knee, and you are supposed to make contact using your dorsum - the _top _of your foot - not your toes or you will break them!" he commanded.

Christine frowned, moved a few steps back, then took a running leap and launched herself at him, catching Erik off-guard and sending him to the workout mats he had procured (illegally) from the college gym.

Before Erik could get up, Christine straddled his stomach and pinned his wrists. "_This_ works better, don't you think?"

"FOOLISH girl!" Erik hissed angrily, causing Christine to be taken aback. "Your opponent could throw you off easily or turn it around on you!"

He yanked his wrists from her grasp and pushed himself up on his elbows, the change in position causing Christine to slide a few inches lower.

In frustration, Christine grabbed the material of Erik's tank top and pulled him closer. "HEY! I'm TRYING!" she snapped. "No need to get bitchy!"

"_I_… do _not _… get BITCHY!" he growled. "The truth is, _little angel_, you fight like a _woman_!" Erik retorted.

"Well, GOSH, Erik! Maybe because I AM a woman!" Christine snapped. "And I'm pretty sure you've _noticed _it, 'cuz that's not a _stake _I'm feeling every time we get cozy!"

Erik kept his jaw clenched as he coolly observed the position Christine was sitting in.

He slowly brought his golden eyes back to hers, causing her heart to pound within her chest.

She had made a sarcastic remark in her anger… but now… now his eyes were on fire at what she had implied…

"What do you want me to say, angel?" he spoke deliberately, voice low. "As much as I try to be a _gentleman_, a MAN I still am! I apologize if my _body _…at any time… _offended_ you!"

Christine shoved his shoulders back to the mat. "That is SO not what I meant! I'm just saying I'm not some six-foot-something Hunter who's been doing this for 15 years!"

Christine let out a surprised yelp as she suddenly found their positions reversed, Erik pinning her hands above her head as he glared down at her. "Six!" he hissed.

"What?"

"I am six-foot-_six_! And I have been doing this for _16 _years!" He brought his masked face closer to hers. "Now it seems I have you in a rather unfortunate position! What should you do?"

Christine thought fast, and quickly brought her knees up, catching him in the stomach and shoving him off before she jumped to her feet, defensive position ready.

Erik slowly stood up, a smirk upon his lips. "Very good. At least you learned _something_ today."

"Thanks… but you're still a bitchy teacher."

"I am NOT bitchy!" he hissed as he took a step towards her.

"Yes, you are!" she retorted, closing the gap completely. She then smirked up at him. "And I kind've _like _it. It shows that you _care_."

Before Erik could respond, Christine pulled his face down and kissed him thoroughly.

"And now," she continued once they broke away, "I have to go to class!" She grabbed her backpack and headed out the door, leaving Erik staring hopelessly after her as he tried to catch his breath.

* * *

**Meg and Christine's Dorm room – Saturday afternoon**

Meg flipped through the latest copy of _Dance Magazine_, finding herself alone after Christine had headed off to the Science Centre with Erik. She had invited Meg, but Meg did not want to feel like a third wheel and had politely declined.

Others were free to knock on her dorm door, but Meg had made it clear that she was currently in no mood to be disturbed.

Though she rarely showed it, RJ's betrayal a few weeks ago was still fresh in her mind. She had, in fact, been in a funk ever since.

Christine, bless her heart, would always patiently listen to her ranting and raving, offer her a shoulder to cry on, and try to cheer her up.

It never lasted long enough.

Even though RJ had begged Meg's forgiveness – and no doubt she had _the ghost _to thank for that – she still could not find it in her heart to forgive him. Perhaps she was being petty.

Perhaps not.

RJ had been her first, her only, and he had betrayed her because she hadn't been enough for him. What made matters worse was the fact RJ was the one who had pushed for a physical relationship to begin with.

_I should have been strong enough to say no. I should have realized then. The asshole threatened to dump me if I didn't put out! That alone should have set off the 'he's a total bastard' warning bells, _Meg mused.

She sighed inwardly. Over a year of her life had just been wasted on a boy who couldn't care less. Why couldn't she find a decent guy like Christine had?

So what if he looked like a corpse? At least Erik treated Christine with respect.

Meg suddenly jumped at the sound of her cell phone ringing. Who would be calling her?

She grabbed the phone and frowned at caller ID. "What do you want, DeChagny?" she snapped as she answered.

"Yikes! Did I catch you at a bad time?" Raoul replied on the other line. "I was going to ask how Chrissy's been after all that shit she went through, but I couldn't get through to her phone."

"Sorry. Not feeling very talkative!" Meg snapped.

"What's wrong?"

"Raoul? I said I'm not very talkative." Meg answered, then suddenly felt the need to rant. "Why do guys suck?"

Raoul was startled by the outburst. "Um, well… in defense of my gender, not ALL of us suck."

"RJ's a damn cheater who can't keep it in his pants, and he expected me to be his little blow up sex doll and enjoy it! God… he wasn't even that GOOD in bed! Couldn't keep it up for more then five minutes! Didn't do any of the _good _stuff girls like either! I think Mr. Micro-Weenie only brought me ONCE in all the times we-"

"MEG!" Raoul sputtered. "A little TOO much info! I'm going to have to scrub my ears out here."

"And what's worse," Meg continued, oblivious to his protests. "If my mom marries his dad, he's going to be my step-brother! How SICK is that?"

Raoul shuddered silently, then spoke again. "Tell you what – how about we go somewhere? Might make you feel better… possibly… maybe… God, I _really _hope so."

"Oh hell… why not…" she muttered. "But if you think I'm going to sleep with you-"

"WOAH, hey!" Raoul interrupted. "That is NOT on my radar! I just figured you might like going out. Just as _friends_, Meg. I'm not looking to be rebound guy here."

"Well, I don't want to be rebound _girl_ either, you know. Just 'cuz Chrissy isn't here."

"Chrissy and I haven't dated in a _year_. And I'm not asking you just because she's not there." He let out a sigh. "That's what I get for trying to be a nice guy. Never mind. I'll talk to you another time."

"WAIT… Raoul… I'm sorry." Meg answered apologetically. "I didn't mean to start spewing my hate-on for RJ at you." Her voice grew softer. "I'd love to go somewhere with you."

A wicked thought came to her. "How about the Science Centre?"

He was silent a moment, and Meg worried he had already hung up.

"I'll be there at three." Raoul answered finally. "And Meg?" his voice sounded painfully sincere. "I really _am _just trying to cheer you up."

Meg allowed a small smile to cross her lips. "Yeah, I know. Thank you. I'll see you soon."

"See you," Raoul replied. Meg heard the click of his phone, and disconnected.

* * *

**The Science Centre **

Christine read the information brochure before her:

_BODY WORKS: The Exhibition of Real Human Bodies _

She suppressed a shudder. _Real human bodies_… she reminded herself. _Preserved for eternity_. Bodies without skin. Just bones, muscles, tendons, nerves, blood vessels and organs.

Christine glanced over to Erik, who seemed fascinated as he studied the exhibit and read the information plaques.

"Um… Erik?" She started.

"Yes, Christine?"

She bit her lip nervously. "Was this supposed to be romantic?"

Erik studied her, surprised at the question. "Oh."

He took a deep breath. "Forgive me. I… did not quite… think of it that way. I simply thought it would be interesting." He shrugged his shoulders hopelessly. "I am afraid I fail when it comes to _romantic_."

Christine hugged his arm. "It's ok. If this interests you, then I don't mind." She glanced around briefly. "Of course, these guys _are_ kind of creepy. They look like they're going to get up and walk any minute now."

"It would not surprise me," Erik responded off-handedly.

Christine looked up at Erik, back at the bodies, then hugged his arm tighter.

* * *

Martine glanced over to the masked man and his female companion as she pretended to take in the various displays before her. 

She wanted answers, and she wanted them now. Why had he come after her with the Hunters if he was the one who had hired her in the first place?

Unless, of course, it had been someone else. But surely there could not be TWO masked men roaming about the city?

Could there?

* * *

**Meg and Christine's Dorm room**

Meg's mind went over the conversation she had had with Raoul not more then twenty minutes ago.

_Nice work, Meggy. Piss off the guy who's just trying to be nice…_ Meg silently scolded herself. She paced across her carpet and caught her reflection in the mirror – her hair was a frizzled mess, her face pale, her clothing sloppy. _Damn… I look like hell._ She took a deep breath, and grew determined.

_Ok. RJ is an ass and he's not worth mourning over! A hottie just asked you out and you're going to look halfway decent! So get out of your depression and dazzle DeChagny!_

Meg quickly went to her dresser and pulled out a white baby-t and a pair of low-rise jeans. Comfortable, practical, and showed off her dancer's body without _looking_ like it was showing off her dancer's body. She tossed the outfit on her bed and glanced at the clock. He would be there in thirty minutes. No… twenty-five now.

_I'll be damned if I'm going out with Raoul DeChagny smelling like I just got back from the gym... even if I DID just get back from the gym._

She headed into the washroom and quickly tossed her current clothes in the hamper, hopping into the shower and letting out a yelp as the cold water hit her, having not allowed it enough time to heat up.

Ten minutes later, she was done.

_SHIT… now my hair is wet! _She hadn't considered that in her rush to be clean. Meg simply towel dried it, grabbed her anti-frizz mousse, scrunched, and decided to let it air-dry.

With the help of some baby powder to soak up the excess moisture on her skin - _guys like the smell of baby powder, right?_ She wondered – Meg quickly slipped on her outfit, added a dab of makeup – _not too much, _she reminded herself – and waited.

Three o'clock sharp, there was a knock at the door. "Meg? It's Raoul. You good to go?"

Meg smiled. _At least he's punctual_.

She quickly grabbed her coat, opened the door, and headed out, arm-in-arm, with the most eligible – and handsome- bachelor in town.

It was enough to cheer _any_ girl up.

* * *

**The Science Centre – 30 Minutes later**

_Uncomfortable_ was not the proper word to describe the four people staring at each other in the middle of the Body Works exhibit.

"Meg?" Raoul started as he glared at the tall masked man holding Christine's hand. "What the hell is HE doing here?"

"I am here with _Christine_, DeChagny," Erik hissed. "I should ask what YOU are doing here with Little Giry!"

"It was HER idea!" Raoul replied. "I offered to take her out to cheer her up, and she wanted to come HERE for some insane reason!"

"Ok. Ok. Hold on a sec…" Christine began. "Meggy? Can we talk?" She indicated a quiet corner several feet away.

Meg followed her, leaving the boys fuming at each other.

"Chrissy, I can explain! I _like _Raoul. _Seriously_. I mean, he's hot AND he's nice. And he isn't expecting to get laid! And I wanted you to know how I felt without you freaking out on me, so when he offered to take me somewhere, I thought we could meet up with you," she rushed out in one breath.

"He's my _ex_, Meggy." Christine replied.

"I know! But that's just it – your ex! You have _Erik _now."

Christine took a deep breath, and spoke again. "How did you get to know him well enough to LIKE him?"

Meg cringed. There was the question. It deserved an answer. She only hoped Christine would understand it.

"Well, when you disappeared to find Erik back in the winter, we wanted to find you. We hung out a lot, trying to figure it out, and that's when I started to think about it. About him. I was still with RJ, so I couldn't really act." She then frowned, "Although apparently that didn't stop HIM from acting." she shook her head, "Anyway. That's how it happened."

She glanced over at the two men off to the side, and could have sworn she saw the hatred pour off them.

Meg quickly brought her attention back to Christine. "I mean, one of the reasons I got fed up with RJ's treatment of me was because Raoul was just so polite and considerate, and he wasn't even getting me in bed for it!"

"Does he know you like him?" Christine asked.

"I doubt it," Meg replied, then looked downcast. "I don't even know if I'm his type."

"Why not? You're a sweetheart." Christine smiled.

Meg looked back at her friend, surprised. "You're not mad at me?"

"Mad? No. I was _surprised_, mostly. _Really _surprised," she said. "But I have no romantic attachment to Raoul anymore. It wouldn't be fair to get mad because someone ELSE does."

"So it's ok then!" Meg asked hopefully.

"Yeah, it's ok. I just hope he reciprocates. He'll treat you a whole lot better than RJ did, and that's what's important." She took Meg's hands. "I want you to be happy, Meggy. If you think Raoul can do that for you, then by all means go for it."

Meg was about to respond when she was interrupted by fearsome yelling as Erik and Raoul looked about ready to rip each other's heads off.

"Will they ever get along?" Meg groaned as the two girls rushed back to their respective dates in the hopes of calming them down.

* * *

Martine watched the group before her. The two males – the masked one and the blond - were arguing, their dislike for one another so thick she could taste it. It was the type of negative energy she could draw her power from. 

She chuckled quietly to herself as the two little girls tried desperately to get their men to control themselves.

She would have loved to stay and watch… if the masked man had not spied her off to the side. He stopped his momentary arguing and narrowed his golden eyes.

Ignoring the other three, he started to walk towards her. She looked around, wondering why he would dare approach her in public.

"Who are you?" he demanded as he finally stood before her.

She stared at him, incredulous. "You KNOW who I am."

"No, _Madame_, I do NOT. And yet…" he studied her. "there is something about you I find familiar."

Martine shook her head, eyes wide. "You're _not _him."

"Who?" he demanded.

Martine knew now.

The masked man who had come to kill her with the Hunters was NOT the same one who had hired her for the job in the first place.

She backed away from him, a small smirk on your face. "You find me familiar, do you?" she asked. "Perhaps this will refresh your memory!"

She muttered something incoherent under her breath.

Erik tried to make out the language only to find that it was an incantation.

Before Erik could register the effect her words might have, screams erupted from behind him.

Erik spun around to see the _specimens_ slowly moving from their dais, Christine and Meg clutching at each other, Raoul standing in front them somewhat protectively as all three began backing away.

A rush of other patrons ran towards the exits once they saw what was happening, shoving and pushing anything and anyone out of their way.

Erik turned back to the woman only to see she was gone.

But now he knew.

She was the one he had been sent to execute a while back.

And she had managed to escape once again.

* * *

Christine desperately tried to look for Erik as one of the bodies made its way towards her, hands outstretched, soulless eyes focused. 

Its exposed parts started to throb with life, creating a moist sheen over its once dried-out form.

She had become separated from Meg and Raoul, swept away by the others trying to escape. "ERIK?" she called out. "ERIK? Where ARE you!"

She moved away from the thing heading towards her, only to run into _another _thing. She cried out for Erik hysterically and was answered when a rope wrapped around the creature's neck and was pulled taut, causing the head to part from the body. The bits and pieces fall to the ground with a very wet splat.

Behind her now, she heard another splat.

Christine stumbled away as quickly as her legs could carry her, then fell to her knees in a desperate attempt not to retch at the stench that permeated the pile of reanimated parts.

"Angel?" She felt hands grasp her shoulder and immediately spun around into Erik's embrace.

"What… what was that? Why… why did it move? I thought you were KIDDING! Oh God! It MOVED! It was DEAD… and it MOVED!"

"Yes. That's been known to happen on occasion." Erik muttered as he stood up and glanced around slowly. Christine knew the _Hunter _had taken over.

There were three more creatures left, each of them soon meeting the same fate as the other two.

For a moment, Christine could have sworn she had seen one more heading off elsewhere. But where was it _now_?

And more importantly, where were Meg and Raoul?

* * *

"CHRISSY?" Meg cried out. "Where are you?" 

"Chrissy!" Raoul's voice added to Meg's as the two backed away from the dead thing that came towards them.

Meg let out a startled screech as it grabbed at her. She made a desperate attempt to get away, but it held strong.

Without a second thought, Raoul grabbed a stanchion that had been used to rope off the exhibit and tackled the thing, forcing it away from Meg and landing atop it with a sickening squish.

He then proceeded to bludgeon its head as many times as he could until it finally stopped moving.

Wet. Sticky. Cold.

Raoul's clothing was covered.

It took a moment before the shock finally hit him.

He jumped to his feet, the foul stench assaulting his nose as he glanced down at himself."Ew… oh, Ewwwww! This is… the most REVOLTING, DISGUSTING thing I have EVER encountered!"

Meg slowly went up to him. "Raoul? Are you-"

"What the HELL was that?" he interrupted. "And WHY was it so damned JUICY? Shit! Of ALL the things that have EVER happened to me, THIS has to be the most fu-"

The sudden feel of Meg's mouth upon his interrupted Raoul's rant.

When they broke apart, Raoul could only stare at her, eyes wide, breathing halted. "Meg? What-"

"Thank you… for being my hero." she winked.

"Oh… well… um…" he looked around quickly, saw no immediate danger. "It wasn't such a big deal. I acted on instinct."

Raoul's adrenaline high was still in full gear, mixed with relief now as he did the first thing that came to mind – he talked.

"I've been told I have a bit of a heroic streak in me. Apparently my father was a war hero. I suppose it runs in the family. I was told my great-grandfather once-"

"Will you _shut _up!" came a harsh growl from a few feet away.

Raoul jumped at the voice and turned to face a newly arrived Erik and Christine, the former glaring at him with a scowl.

"You look like crap, DeChagny." Erik pointed out. "_Smell _like it too!"

Raoul came back to himself, having momentarily forgotten his current state. "Damn. How am I going to explain this to Phil?"

"Why don't we go back to Residence?" Meg suddenly perked up. "He can take a shower in our bathroom, right Chrissy?" She looked hopefully at Christine, a silent plea in her eyes. _Oh please let me have a naked Raoul in my vicinity? Pretty please?_

Christine had to suppress a laugh. "Sure. Erik can loan him some clothes and we'll toss his stuff in one of the machines."

Erik glared down at Christine. "You want him to wear MY clothes?"

"Well he's certainly not going to fit into MINE!" Christine protested.

Before Erik could say more, Christine had her arms around his waist, her hands in the back pockets of his trousers as she offered his backside a slight squeeze. "I'll make it up to you," she whispered.

Erik furrowed his brow. _What_, exactly, was she implying?

He would have refuse, but the pleading in those lovely blue eyes made him powerless to do so. "Very well," he muttered, and silently cursed his weakness.

When he turned to face Raoul, the handsome blond boy seemed as horrified as Erik was at the prospect.

"If you ruin my clothes, DeChagny, you WILL pay for it!" Erik then smirked coldly. "And I do not mean with _money_!"

Raoul suddenly grasped Meg's hand, and for a moment, Meg's heart leapt at the thought he was being romantic… until Raoul started to squeeze perhaps a little too tightly, a slight shaking in the firmness of the grip.

She watched his jaw clench as his eyes never left Erik's, his adam's apple bobbing repeatedly.

She only hoped Raoul didn't notice she was paying just a little too much attention to the rest of him as well.

* * *

**Ravelle College Residence**

Meg sat on her bed nervously, expecting her mother to barge in at any moment and accuse her of hiding a naked Raoul DeChagny in her shower.

Well… he wasn't _hiding_, exactly. But… he was there. She could hear the water going. In fact, it had been going for a good twenty minutes now.

_Must have been a whole lot of squish in that thing_, she thought as she recalled how Raoul had been covered in gunk after their run-in with the living dead things.

Suddenly, the water stopped, and Raoul's voice could be heard. "Meg?" he called out. "Uh… where are your towels?"

"Damn!" She cursed quickly, realizing she had forgotten to give him one before he had gone in.

She quickly went to her dresser and found the biggest towel she had, then knocked on the door of the bathroom. "Raoul? Uh… here. Sorry."

The door opened slightly, a wet-haired DeChagny poking his blond head out. She held the towel up and he opened the door just a little bit more to stick his hand out and grab it. "Thanks."

She nodded, quite sure she was smiling foolishly at him before he slunk back in.

He had opened the door just enough that Meg was able to sneak a look at what she could be getting herself into.

Oh yes. He would certainly be an improvement over RJ.

**END OF EPISODE 39**


	40. Episode 40: Suspicions

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir. **_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 40: Suspicions

By: Elektra

**Hardy St. and Jarrett**

Detective Nadir Khan crouched a few feet away from the body before him. It was a young girl - a local college student, he surmised. Obviously murdered, but for what purpose?

Around her neck, he saw ligature marks - a sure sign of strangulation by something other than hands.

His heart sunk at the first thought that had come to him, but he silently scolded himself.

_Erik may be the Guild's Executioner… but this girl was an innocent! He **would **not…_Nadir shook his head, not wanting to finish the thought as he continued to study the crime scene.

The body had been positioned purposefully against a wall, sitting up, head lolling to the side, legs spread most unflatteringly.

He could make out trauma to the head – her face and hair had been hacked to bits. It would make visual identification hard. Nadir guessed from the lack of defensive wounds, it had been done post-mortem.

At least, he _prayed _it had.

_And that is another thing, _Nadir thought. _Erik would never… **never**… be so vicious._

Reports had indicated the other three girls had merely been strangled. But now, now the crime had escalated. Nadir wondered if this had been personal.

"Well?" Police Commander Gus Leroux spoke as he came up behind his detective. "Should we put the Guild on alert?"

Nadir jumped to his feet. "Why are you so quick to assume it was… _one of us_?"

Leroux shook his head. "Why are you so quick to assume it was _not_?"

"Because he WOULDN'T!" Nadir snapped back.

"And you know this for a fact?" Leroux asked. "You have seen him in action! He was not made the Executioner without reason!"

"He WOULD NOT do this!" Nadir insisted.

"Confiscate his weapon," Leroux ordered.

Nadir's eyes went wide. "Surely you cannot mean-"

"Surely I CAN," The commander continued. "The lab found slivers of rope embedded in the first three girls. No doubt similar fibers will be upon this girl as well. If the Executioner is as innocent as you claim, then his rope will not match those segments."

Nadir shook his head, scowling at the Commander. "You want the Punjab lasso, you go ask Erik _yourself_!"

With disgust, Nadir left the scene of the crime.

* * *

He rearranged the mask upon his face - it would not do to unintentionally expose his worst feature - as he watched the men several feet away from him. 

He reached into the pocket of his cloak and slid his fingers over his beloved rope.

He remembered when that girl had come around the corner, looking so very beautiful.

Oh, how he despised beautiful things.

She would never look lustfully at him with those green eyes of hers, never entwine him with those slender limbs, never allow him to lose himself within her.

This one was so much lovelier than the others. He could not bear it. He had to destroy her physical beauty, take from her what _he _was lacking.

Sliding his hand out of his pocket, he pulled up the collar of his coat and made his way home as if nothing were amiss.

He wondered if his father would be proud.

* * *

**Erik's Room – Thirty minutes later**

Christine knocked upon Erik's door, brow furrowing when she received no answer.

"Christine?"

Christine turned to see Erik heading towards her, having sneaked in from… well, she didn't see _where_ he had sneaked in. Obviously not from the cellar stairs.

"I have never seen you put your hair up in a hat before," he said suspiciously as he studied her.

Christine quickly fixed the hat upon her head, tucking a wayward strand back beneath it.

She didn't want him to see…

"Thought it would be a nice new look," she smiled. "So... uh… were you off working?"

"I suppose you could call it that," he replied. "How may I help you?"

She ran to him and jumped into his arms. "I just wanted to tell you that Meg, Sorelli and Jammes are taking me to a bar for my birthday tonight. Do you want to come with?"

He shook his head. "I would rather not be near Jammes nor Sorelli. Let alone at a very crowded bar. I have a plan for us _tomorrow_, however. I do you hope like it."

"I'm sure I will," she smiled. "And as for tonight - just so you know – the girls want to get me all drunk. So… um… if I wander into your room practically tripping over my feet, you'll know why."

He nodded. "It is a good thing you do not celebrate your birthday every night then."

"Not a big fan of drinking. Especially after that… _thing_… spiked my cola last year. But at least they'll be three of them to keep an eye on me this time. And Meg knows not to let me go off with some weird guy." She smiled. "Unless it's _you_ of course."

"Well, how reassuring," he said. "I hope you enjoy your girl's night out, angel."

Christine nodded, then met his eyes. "Can I get a birthday kiss before I go?"

Erik momentarily recalled Christine asking for a birthday kiss last year as well - _after_ she had been duly intoxicated.

But now, here she was with her arms and legs wrapped around him, her blue eyes looking hopeful, and her mind completely clear.

How things had changed…

* * *

**Parteau Bar - outside (later that night)**

Erik had long ago mastered the art of lurking. He knew how not to be seen, and he knew when _others_ were attempting not to be seen. Such as the lady in the parked car down the street, spying on the entrance to the bar before him.

The one he had seen at the Science Centre a week back.

He had already mentioned her presence last week to Antoinette, but no one had been able to find her afterwards.

And here, in public, there was very little he could do.

A night walk had led him there, the feeling something was amiss was too powerful to ignore. The fact that Christine was in the vicinity only increased his apprehension.

Offering the lady in the car one last glance, he stepped inside the bar.

The music was loud, pounding. Though he stood taller than most of the patrons – and the two bouncers who had attempted to prohibit the masked man entry before he handed them some extra cash – Erik still could not help but feel closed in.

Glancing over to the bar, he saw three girls cheering on a forth as she quickly downed a shot and grimaced, shaking her head indicating she didn't want any more.

He made his way through the crowd, through the smoke that wasn't entirely from cigarettes judging by the sickly sweet scent, and found his target.

* * *

**Parteau Bar - Inside**

Christine jumped when she felt two strong hands on her shoulders, then tipped her head back to look up into a white masked face.

"Hey!" she said, smiling as she was feeling rather tipsy. "You came after all!"

Before Erik could respond, Christine's hands reached up, grabbing his head and pulling him into an upside-down kiss.

She closed her eyes, her tongue savouring the new sensation, letting out a strange little sound that could only be described as a moan.

When she finally let him go, he looked down at her, golden eyes blinking in surprise. "That was... _interesting_..." he breathed.

"That was… kind of _hot_!" Jammes replied as she looked between Erik and Christine.

"Chrissy is a little – ok, _a lot _- drunk," Meg explained apologetically. Erik nodded, having assessed that for himself.

Sorelli suddenly turned on him. "Why are you here? Are you some kind of stalker-boyfriend? You weren't even invited!"

"On the contrary," Erik replied, trying very hard to keep the venom from his voice as he addressed her. "Christine DID invite me earlier. I told her I couldn't come, but have since changed my mind." He scowled coldly. "But really, Sorelli – is that any way to speak to your teacher?"

Sorelli snorted. "It was only ONE week!"

"That is what _you_ think," Erik replied.

Sorelli simply stared at him, unsure whether he was speaking the truth - and rather frightened at the prospect if he _was_.

Meg snickered, bringing Erik's attention to her. He motioned for her to join him a few feet away. "What's wrong?" she asked as she stepped up to him.

"Nothing is wrong, Little Giry… but I do have a question." He began, looking somewhat unsure. "When did Christine start wearing hats? Tell me I have not missed something."

Meg seemed to stumble for an answer, then shook her head. "Oh… uh… she just… you know… wanted a new look." She quickly changed the subject. "You going to stick around? Chrissy's gonna need to be carried out of here."

Erik nodded. "I will stay by her side for the rest of the night," he offered.

Meg laughed. "No surprise there, _stalker-boyfriend_."

"She DID invite me, Little Giry," Erik insisted.

"Yeah. She told me. Was disappointed you didn't want to come," Meg replied. "You totally made her night by showing up." She looked over to Christine, "C'mon, she's practically jumping out of her seat for us to return."

The two headed back to the bar, and Erik made himself comfortable on the stool beside Christine.

"Are you staying?" she asked hopefully, her words slurred.

"Yes, I suppose I am."

"Great. Fine." Sorelli said. "You baby-sit. We're scoping." She grabbed Jammes' and Meg's arms and the three girls headed into the crowd to find a few men.

* * *

**Parteau Bar – outside (1 hour later)**

His hand straying to the rope in his pocket, the oddest sight greeted him as he watched a tall dark-clothed man walking out of the bar with an intoxicated girl clinging to him for support.

When the man turned slightly, it revealed thin white material that covered his entire face, save for his mouth.

A mask.

So this was _he_.

This was Erik! The _ungrateful _one.

And what of the girl beside him? Did he get her drunk with plans to take advantage of her? Surely a pretty thing like that would be with him no other way, if what he heard about the man's looks were true.

He was surprised when he saw the girl stop to step in front of Erik and slide her arms around his waist. Erik responded by brushing his fingers down her cheek. She closed her eyes seemingly content with the contact.

He wondered if the man has used something other than alcohol to make such a beautiful woman so affectionate towards him.

* * *

Erik's hand reached up, and gently slid the hat off Christine's head - causing bright brassy red curls to tumble down over her shoulders, darker in some places, lighter in others. 

She cried out and stepped back, desperately trying to cover her head with her hands.

"Christine?" Erik spoke, gently grasping her wrists as he slid her hands from her head. "What did you do to your hair?"

Her lower lip began to quiver, a wail soon escaping her throat. "Me an' Meg tried t'make it blond for my birfday! It got all messed up!" She clutched at Erik again, sniffling out her sorrow against his shirt.

"Oh my sweet Christine…" Erik sighed as he ran his fingers through her discoloured locks. "You were lovely the way you were!"

* * *

The observer stumbled back, surprised at such casual conversation between the two. 

It led him to believe they KNEW each other. Were _close_, even.

He had heard this Erik looked like a _corpse. _He did not doubt the description. But why would this girl – this _beautiful_ girl – give him her attention?

"If you truly want it blonde, I will give you money to have it done professionally. Consider it part of your birthday gift," he heard Erik console the girl.

"I loff you!" this _Christine_ squealed as she hugged Erik tightly. "Loff you sooooo mushhhhhh!"

The observer shook his head frantically as he watched the scene before him. Drunk or not, drugged or otherwise… this girl was not lying with her words.

How was that possible?

_Pretty _things did not love _ugly _things! He had been taught that from birth. He had LIVED with that knowledge all of his 23 years.

How dare these two destroy everything he believed in?

Not wanting to witness any more, the observer quickly ran towards the car in which Martine had been waiting, and commanded she help him find another victim.

Her only protest was the measly payment he provided her with.

* * *

**Erik's Room – 30 minutes later**

Erik placed the intoxicated girl in his arms gently on his bed, not wanting to leave her alone in her current state.

"Join me?" Christine's soft voice insisted. Erik looked down to see her staring up at him.

Erik hesitantly complied. "How many birthday shots did your friends buy you?" he asked as she curled up against him.

"Mmmm... free-erm-three..." she mumbled against his chest. "an'a strawberry daq'ri. OH... and a wine cooler."

Erik groaned quietly. She was going to be sick as a dog. "Expect a nasty hangover in the morning."

"I can stay here, can't I?"

"If you wish."

"Good!" She snuggled closer. "So whadd'YOU get me for my birfday?" she asked.

"Well, I suppose I can tell you." he said. "Tomorrow night, I have arranged for you to perform - one night only - as _Suzanna _in the Populaire's production of _Le Nozze di Figaro_."

Christine let out a squeal of delight. "You DID? ERIK!" She tugged off the mask and smothered his face with kisses. "Tha's why you were teaching me th'part these last few weeks!"

"Of course."

"Loff you lots!" she said again before her mouth hungrily found his. He could taste her birthday drinks on her tongue, but really did not care at the moment. "OH!" She suddenly broke away. "My hair s'all messed'up though! I can't go on stage!" That lower lip began to quiver again, but Erik spoke quickly.

"We will get it fixed first thing in the morning."

"Promise?" she squeaked out pathetically.

"I promise." He answered.

Christine nodded vigorously, then grew very pale.

Seconds later, she jumped off the bed and made a beeline for the washroom, the sound of retching heard through the open door.

With a weary sigh, Erik pushed to his feet and plugged in his kettle, preparing a soothing peppermint tea for his poor drunken birthday girl.

* * *

**Opera Populaire – Manager's office, the next night**

"What is this!" Carlotta Gudicelli demanded angrily as she threw the playbill down on André's desk. "Why is there an insert saying that MY role will be played by one Christine Daaé tonight?"

André glance at Firmin. "You didn't tell her?" he asked.

"I thought YOU were going to!" Firmin replied, wanting to sink beneath his desk.

André massaged his temples, a headache beginning to form. "It's a favour for an… _acquaintance_. It's Miss Daaé's birthday and-"

"I KNOW this girl!" Carlotta snapped. "She was in my vocal class last year! She wasn't even that good. And now… to give her a role on a professional stage?"

"She is VERY good." Firmin defended Christine, though truth be told, he only had Erik's word on that.

Of course, Carlotta knew nothing about Erik.

"Who told you that? Your _Antoinette_?" Carlotta snorted. "Of COURSE she would say that! Christine is her daughter's best friend. But I tell you I taught her. Her voice had no spirit! No emotion! She will be bland!"

"Ms. Gudicelli, _please_." André spoke again. "It is only for tonight. I don't understand why you're making such a fuss. If she's one of your students, shouldn't you be proud to see her on stage? Shouldn't you be proud to see how well she's been doing after having your guidance?"

He tried another tactic. "Why, even your husband, Ulbado, told us she was quite the jewel. He taught her last semester, I believe. Said she must have had a wonderful teacher." André leaned forward. "Certainly he meant _you_…"

Carlotta stopped ranting for a moment, her voice growing softer. "Ulbado said I was a wonderful teacher?" she asked.

"Of course!" André replied, though he knew it was _Erik's _teaching that had been impressive, not Carlotta's. Still, it seemed the flattery was working.

Carlotta studied André another moment, then turned to Firmin. "So then, was it Madame Giry asking you to give the child my role?'

Firmin opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He didn't want to implicate Antoinette as she had had nothing to do with it, but he could not very well tell Carlotta about Erik.

"It was _me_," came a voice from the doorway.

_Of course, if Erik wishes to reveal **himself**, _Firmin thought silently, _Who am I to argue?_

"And who are YOU?" Carlotta demanded of the tall masked man who had just stepped into the office.

"No one you need to worry about," Erik replied coldly. "Firmin is doing a favour for me, and I do not need some third-rate college professor whining about it. Go back to the school and tend to your first-year students. Leave stage performance to the professionals."

Carlotta's mouth fell open, her eyes wide as she stood appalled at the strange man's audacity.

"DO you know who I am!" she demanded as she stormed up to him, "I used to be the Prima Donna of the De'feo opera!

Erik studied the woman calmly. "Then how is it you are only a college professor now? Could it be because you have not aged gracefully?" he asked.

Carlotta sputtered at the insult, but Erik was not done.

"After all," he continued. "A Prima Donna DOES have to be somewhat pleasant to the eye and the ear, not some aging wench who does not know when to shut up and step down."

"How DARE you!" she gasped. "How DARE you stand there and insult me when you know I could very well take it out on that little child you seem so very fond of!"

"I DARE because I know you will NOT take it out on Christine. You are a _first-year _professor and she has moved past your class and beyond your teachings." He then opened the door for her. "Now if you will excuse us, the mangers and myself have some business to attend to."

Carlotta stood rooted, eyes darting between Firmin – who looked so very apologetic – and André - whose headache had become a full-blown migraine, thus giving him an excuse to bury his head in his hands.

"That was _not _a request, Ms. Gudicelli!" Erik hissed darkly, his hand still upon the door.

"We… we will still see you tomorrow night… Ms. Gudicelli…yes?" Firmin asked weakly, hoping and praying she would not just up and leave the production.

With a snort, Carlotta left the office, Erik slamming the door behind her. A yelp on the other side indicated it had hit her in the backside.

"Oh Erik…" André groaned into his hands. "Why?"

Erik shrugged his shoulders. "She will get over it," he said.

"Easy for YOU to say!" Firmin sputtered. "It is not YOUR life she is going to make hell for the next three weeks!"

Erik waved away their concerns and grabbed a chair, sitting down gracefully and propping his dirty boots up on Firmin's desk. "Now tell me, gentlemen… will there be anyone of note in the audience tonight?"

* * *

**Dressing room**

Christine sat before the makeup mirror and studied her reflection. She slowly ran a hand through her new hair and smiled. Meg had said blonde would suit her. The girl had certainly known what she was talking about.

Her smile widened as she remembered the look in Erik's eyes when she had gone to show him that his gift did not go to waste… though it had taken 3 and a half tedious hours to undo the damage she and Meg had wrought upon her poor hair.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the makeup lady came up to her. "Let me just take one last look at you, darlin'" she said with a smile, quickly checking Christine's makeup before heading off to one of the other girls.

The reality of Christine's situation then struck her hard.

This was a real stage, in front of real people, in a real theater.

_God help me…_

"Tea?" A smooth silky voice asked her as a gloved hand placed a mug down on the table in front of her. Erik took the empty chair beside her. "Are you feeling all right? No repeat of last night?"

She shook her head. "Mmm, no…just nervous." She replied, not wanting to be reminded how she had thoroughly emptied her stomach in Erik's bathroom less than 24 hours ago.

She was never drinking again, birthday be damned. It always led to no good.

With a shaky hand, she picked up the lukewarm mug and sipped at the contents, the peppermint tea helping soothe her nerves a little.

"You will be fine," he replied as he gently brushed a golden curl off her forehead.

"Thank you for your confidence," she said when she put the mug back down, "I wish I could share it... but I don't think the patrons paid to see some lowly college girl perform in an opera."

Erik tugged off his gloves and took her little hands in his larger ones. "Come now, this is supposed to be _fun_, angel. It is your birthday present," he said. "If you sing it as you did in our lessons, then it will be wonderful. The patrons will have no complaints." He met her eyes. "When it comes to your vocal skills, I do not say such things lightly."

She nodded, knowing how fastidious he could be when it came to her voice. "Good luck hug?"

Erik stood up and pulled Christine to her feet to embrace her. "You will be fine."

* * *

**Opera Populaire - Twenty minutes later**

Erik settled in Box 5 and wrapped his cloak around him, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. The last thing he needed was for those in the audience to look up and see him sitting there.

His breath caught as the overture began, and he waited.

When Christine came on stage, he was quite sure his heart would leap out of his chest.

She seemed so very natural. All her anxiety earlier seemed to disappear the moment she opened her mouth to sing.

Erik sat transfixed through the entire performance, barely moving, hardly breathing.

The applause that followed Christine's bow was almost deafening.

He was so very proud of his little angel.

* * *

**Erik's Room - 2 hours later**

Christine hugged the bouquet of roses closer, inhaling their sweet scent as Erik opened his door.

"I do hope you enjoyed your night," Erik began as he shut the door behind them.

Christine placed the flowers upon his desk and went up to him, startling Erik when he saw the tears in her eyes.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

She simply shook her head and pulled him in for a kiss, unable to find the words to express her feelings at that moment.

But then, actions always did speak louder than words. And tonight, she wanted to _show_ him how she felt.

Christine reached up and unclasped his cloak, letting it fall to the floor before tugging at his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Erik asked, eyes wide.

She said nothing, instead slipping her hands beneath the black silk and pushing it up his torso slowly, fingers playing over the revealed skin inch by inch until finally she was able to pull it up over his head.

Still silent, Christine reached up to slide his mask off his face before wrapping her arms around him and placing tender kisses upon his skin.

She slowly edged Erik towards the bed and gave him no choice but to sit upon the mattress.

"Angel?" he gasped, his breath coming quick and harsh, Christine's attention sending delicious shudders throughout his body.

She put a finger to his lips and climbed into his lap, a leg on either side of him as she gently guided his hands to the buttons of her blouse.

He did not know what to make of it, but now was not the time to question such things.

Erik simply did as instinct guided him and gently lowered Christine to the mattress, his mouth finding hers as clumsy fingers began to unbutton her blouse.

Far too busy kissing her, he did not even look as his hands slid over the lace of her now exposed bra.

Christine pushed herself up only slightly to let the shirt slide down her arms, freeing herself from the fabric before her little fingers tangled in his hair once again, bringing him down atop her.

Erik's lips traveled over her jaw, her neck and shoulder… until he finally hesitated.

He raised his head slowly and met her eyes, apprehension clear in those golden depths. "I… I love you so… so very much!" he gasped out. "I don't know…what… what I am doing. I… I have no idea-"

Christine placed a tiny palm on his mouth. "That makes two of us. Just kiss me right now. We'll take it from there."

He swallowed thickly. This night was leading to far more than either had experience with. _How _far, exactly, was unclear. But Christine did not see fit to ask him to stop.

Yet.

Meeting her mouth once again, Erik's graceful hands danced over her little ribs and abdomen before moving back up and gliding to her back, playing over the hooks of her bra as he brushed gentle kisses over her heart and pulse.

Christine released a pleasant sigh as his fingers unhooked the clasps, sliding the straps off her shoulder and freeing her from the lace and wire.

He looked down at her, hands trembling as he explored the newly revealed skin - before he froze once again, uncertain what to do next.

Erik closed his eyes and released a shaky breath. Insistent fingers quickly tangled in his hair and guided him, a little sound escaping Christine's throat as his lips made contact.

He would have to remember the effect he was having on her, what he was doing to bring forth these lovely noises.

His hands slowly continued to travel, a palm grazing her thigh, bunching the material of her skirt as he shifted atop her.

He felt Christine shiver as his hand slid higher, the tips of his fingers brushing against lace lingerie … an eager whimper rising from his angel…

… until hard knuckles rapped upon his door.

The two suddenly jumped apart, Christine instinctively clutching her arms over her chest.

"Erik? Are you home? Your cell phone has been off all night. I've left message after message!"

Christine suddenly felt like crying. She knew that voice, knew what it meant if it was asking for Erik at this time of night.

She closed her eyes and hung her head, her freshly coloured curls falling forward, unintentionally hiding her lovely form from Erik's eyes.

"Damn…" Christine cursed, a disappointed pout on her lips.

Erik's response, however, was far less polite and was soon followed by an animalistic growl as he shouted out his tormentor's name.

"ANTOINETTE!"

* * *

"WHAT do you WANT!" 

Giry released a startled gasp as the door to Erik's room flew open. It was not only his obvious anger towards her, but the current sight of his exposed face that had caught her off-guard.

She quickly turned her attention to the doorjamb, not wanting to see such harsh skeletal features in the candlelit darkness.

Erik cursed when he realized he was lacking a mask, and immediately placed a hand over his face and turned it from her.

Giry glanced back at him, hiding her relief. "What on _earth _could I have done to deserve your venom tonight?" she asked, then furrowed her brow when she saw another form moving in the darkness, a little manicured hand offering Erik a piece of black cotton.

_His mask._ Giry realized. _Which means…_"Christine?"

Giry had been so used to Erik being alone all these years that she had not even bothered to think that he could have company now.

Christine stepped forward, her skirt a rumpled mess, her blouse looking as if it were thrown on at the last minute, the buttons not even lined up properly… and the girl's hair – now a golden blonde - as disheveled as Giry had ever seen it.

_Sweet heaven, what did I interrupt? _Giry wondered.

"What do you want, Antoinette?" Erik asked through clenched teeth as he slid the mask back on.

"Yes… well…" Giry cleared her throat. The last thing she wanted to do was raise his ire, but orders were orders. "Leroux would like you to … to _show_ him the punjab lasso. Tonight, preferably. At Headquarters."

Erik's eyes narrowed, voice dark and dangerous when he spoke. "And why would he want that?" He cocked his head to the side, brow raised beneath the material of his mask. "Would this have anything to do with the dead girls?"

"Dead girls!" Christine gasped.

Erik glanced over to her. "Nothing for you to worry about, angel." He turned back to Giry. "IS there, Antoinette?"

"No. It is… only a precaution. You know that."

"_Precaution?_" Erik hissed. "A _precaution_ to assume that I might be behind it?" He stepped forward. "If Leroux wants my rope, TELL him to come get it HIMSELF!"

"Erik!" Christine placed a hand on his arm. "I… I don't know what's going on… but maybe… if you take care of it right away… it'll be over quicker?"

He met her eyes, and she could see the burning anger in those golden depths.

"I… I can be here when you get back… if-if you want." She blushed, hoping to ease his temper.

Erik took a deep breath and shook his head. "I do not know how long this will take. You are not to deny yourself sleep waiting for me."

"But-" Christine's protest was interrupted as he placed a finger to her lips.

"Trust me, Christine. I will be in a rather foul mood when I return. It's best you go to sleep now."

Christine swallowed at the edge to his voice, but nodded her head. "O-ok. Take meback to my room then?" she asked.

Erik glared at Giry. "May I _do _that, Antoinette?" he spoke bitterly. "May I be granted the right to walk Christine back to her room?"

"Of course, Erik. I will wait for you in my office," Giry replied. She turned to continue down the hall, suddenly stopping mid-stride as she glanced over her shoulder at him. "_I_ trust you… even if Leroux may not."

She then headed back down the hallway, leaving Erik to duck into the bathroom and dress in more appropriate clothing before leading Christine to her room a few minutes later.

Once he was sure Christine had settled in, Erik headed to Madame Giry's office.

Perhaps the executioner would soon face his own execution.

**END OF EPISODE 40**


	41. Episode 41: Return

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir. **_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 41: Return

By: Elektra

**Hunter's Guild Headquarters**

Erik sat across from Gus Leroux's desk, fingers tapping impatiently against the polished wood. He was growing increasingly restless. Not only had he had to leave Christine's warm embrace – and whatever it would have led to – but he was sitting here knowing very well he was suspected of something he did not do, his weapon long since confiscated.

Finally, Leroux entered the room, the masked man's golden eyes following his every move.

"What is the meaning of this, Gus!" Erik demanded. "I have been sitting here like a fool for most of the night!"

"We needed to look into something," Leroux responded, and handed Erik a sheet of paper. "Where were you during these dates and times?"

Erik's eyes skimmed over the paper. "I have no alibi for all but the last date – two nights ago – I was tending to Christine. She was not well."

More specifically, she had had one too many birthday drinks. But Leroux did not need to know that.

Erik put the paper down. "Does my lack of alibis automatically make me a _suspect_, Gus?" he hissed. "The only possible link to me is the _strangulation_."

"It is enough," Leroux explained.

"Why? Am I the ONLY person in this entire city with access to a rope?" Erik spat bitterly.

"No… but we must look into all avenues here, Erik. You understand," Leroux explained calmly.

Erik shook his head. "My lasso will not match anything you may have found on the bodies."

"We will let the lab techs discover that for themselves." Leroux glanced down at the folder in his hands and opened it, pulling out a picture of a female Erik knew all too well.

"You DO have a record of sending pretty young girls to their deaths, after all."

Erik slammed his hands down on the desk and stood up. "THAT was an _accident_," he growled. "Laura Ashton ran into the street!"

"Trying to get away from _you_," Leroux pointed out. "Sit down, Erik."

"I would rather stand," he muttered as he began to pace like a caged animal. "_I_ have a rope – the killer used a rope. If that is all you have, why are you wasting my time?" He stopped and turned to face the man at the desk. "Better yet – what could possibly be my motive?"

Leroux shrugged. "Pretty college co-eds wouldn't give someone like you the time of day?"

Erik let out a harsh laugh. "There is only ONE pretty college co-ed I am interested in, and she has given me more than the time of day! That alone kills your theory."

"Does it now?" Leroux asked with a raised eyebrow. "Exactly how close have the two of you become? _Physically_, I mean."

"THAT is none of your business!"

"It speaks to motive," Leroux explained. "If your lovely little girlfriend has not given you what a man needs, then perhaps you were taking your frustrations out on others?"

Erik glared at the man before him, incensed at the implication. "That is VILE. _Disgusting_! I would NEVER violate a woman!"

"These girls were not violated, but they were _killed_. And the attacks seemed rather personal, at that." He studied Erik carefully. "You are no stranger to killing, Erik."

"Only when circumstances require. It is NOT something I do on a regular basis!"

Erik rested his hands upon the desk and leaned forward, bringing his masked face close to Leroux's, his voice cold and dangerous when he spoke.

"And Gus, should you ever _legally_ use that against me, I will implicate YOU as a conspirator! It would be interesting to see you explain the Hunter's Guild to your fellow officers."

With their eyes locked, the room filled with a thick dangerous silence.

The knock upon the door was as loud as a thunderclap. "Sir?" a voice spoke through the thick wood. "I have the results."

Leroux quickly jumped to his feet and opened the door, allowing entrance to the man waiting.

The lab technician nervously held Erik's rope up. "No match," he said. "The rope used in the killings was nylon. This is catgut."

"As I thought!" Erik hissed, yanking the coiled rope from the man's hands. He turned to Leroux. "I am _leaving_! Thank you for ruining my night! I am sure Christine appreciates it as well!" he spat.

Erik slid his rope into the pocket of his duster and stormed out of the office, leaving the other two men to watch his retreating back.

* * *

**Ravelle College Residence**

Erik looked down through the grate at Christine sleeping so soundly, her newly golden hair splayed over her pillow, giving his angel a truly ethereal beauty.

He closed his eyes, remembering the unfortunate interruption that ended their night cold.

He could not get that lost moment back now, and would not dare request it of her again.

_You are no stranger to killing, Erik…_

Leave it to the Head of the Guild to remind Erik exactly _what_ he was after Christine had almost helped him forget.

Fate had a cruel sense of timing.

Silently, Erik retreated back through the air-ducts, determined to do some research in the event that Christine might grant him another opportunity like that again.

He did not get far when he sensed something he had not felt in the last few months.

Slipping out of the air-ducts as quickly as he could, he made his way outside Residence, his hand upon the single stake he kept in his duster.

Something was here. One of THEM. He could _feel_ it.

With his senses on high alert, he searched the perimeter of the building… but the creature had disappeared.

What a shame. If ever there was a burning need to dust something, it had been tonight.

* * *

**Ravelle Student Lounge – the next evening**

"You're looking pretty cheerful!" Christine noted when Meg came gliding into the student lounge with a smile.

"Raoul called me today!" she answered happily as she came to sit beside Christine.

Sorelli snorted from her seat on the other side of Christine. "Yeah… to ask about some ballet his brother is dragging him too. Said it was a business trip and he had to pretend he knew something about it."

"Still!" Meg protested. "He called ME for the info!"

"Who _else _would he call?" Sorelli asked snidely. "You're a ballet instructor's daughter. Don't start thinking someone like you could ever be anything _else_ to a rich boy like him!"

"Sorelli!" Christine snapped. "Raoul's not LIKE that!"

The redhead turned on Christine. "Why aren't YOU all pissy about your ex making nice with your best friend?"

Christine frowned. "Because he IS my EX. And Meg is free to like whomever she chooses!"

"Oh, that's right." Sorelli narrowed her eyes. "You prefer eccentric masked men who like to get students in shit with their professors!" She leaned closer to Christine. "What's he hiding anyway, Chrissy? What's so bad that he has to cover his face?"

"And what crawled up your tutu and _died _today?" Meg asked with a scowl, arms crossed.

"She broke up with Jack." Jammes chimed in as she entered the room and made herself comfortable.

"Ahhhh…" Meg and Christine nodded in sync.

"Bastard cheated on me." Sorelli muttered. "With another _guy_ of all things!"

"I'm so sorry, Sorelli." Christine responded as she put a gentle hand on the other girl's shoulder.

Sorelli simply snorted and shrugged Christine's hand away. "Better off without him anyway. Maybe I should date _women _instead."

"Well, whatever floats your boat…" Meg answered.

Sorelli looked back at Christine. "But you still haven't answered my question. What's your boyfriend hiding? You HAVE seen his face, right? Because if you haven't, that's one messed up relationship."

Another voice interrupted the conversation. A male. "Oh… yes… Erik's face. That's something else, isn't it Chrissy?"

The four girls turned to see the one person they had least expected.

Bobby "the pervert" Stevens.

Christine and Meg quickly jumped to their feet, both aware of what had happened last time Bobby had made his presence known.

"Bobby! You've been gone forever!" Jammes squealed, oblivious to Meg and Christine's apprehension. She eagerly ran over to him and gave him a hug, then stepped backed and looked up at him. "What's wrong? You feel so _cold_…"

Bobby ignored Jammes, his eyes never leaving Christine. "Is your _Erik _lurking somewhere? Should I be expecting him to drop me from a roof any time soon?"

Jammes and Sorelli exchanged glances, confused by Bobby's comments.

Meg quickly grasped Christine's hand, pulling her protectively behind her. "Bobby, go home," Meg commanded. "Christine already said she wasn't interested in you!"

"Woah, hey!" Sorelli began. "Did you try to steal Chrissy from her boyfriend? Is that what this is all about?"

"Oh sure… make ME out to be the bad guy!" Bobby snapped.

"To be honest, Bob," Sorelli continued. "You _are_ acting kind of creepy right now."

Bobby let out a harsh laugh. "You want creepy? Ask her boyfriend to take off his mask!" He turned back to Christine. "They've never seen, have they?"

Bobby lunged at Christine, forcing her against the wall as he pressed his face into her neck, inhaling her scent. "You still smell innocent," he hissed. "I don't blame you for not wanting a living corpse to touch you!"

"HEY! Leave the girl alone, man!" Two male students barged in on the scene, pulling Bobby away from Christine - but not before she caught a glimpse of two sharp canines at the corners of his mouth.

"Chrissy... go!" Meg insisted, pushing Christine towards the dorm room and getting her out of harm's way. She grabbed the phone in the student lounge and immediately called campus security.

Unfortunately, there would be very little they could do against what Bobby had now become.

* * *

**Five minutes later**

Christine pulled herself up into the air-ducts above her bed and headed straight through the metal tunnels before taking a corner off to the left.

She had no idea where she was going or where she would end up, but she had to try. She had to find Erik.

Christine continued crawling as fast as she could, passing the various grates beneath her hands and knees, glancing down only briefly. Each grate led to another room in Residence. One could see everyone's private business from up here.

She stopped as she came to a ledge and looked down. Below her was a large fan, spinning slowly. She swallowed nervously, hoping it didn't suddenly speed up.

Moving carefully, she slid down to the lower level and was met with two tunnels. Where to now? "Eeny meeny miney moe…" she muttered, stopping at the tunnel to the right. She hesitantly made her way through it.

One more ledge, one more fan, and Christine found herself in yet another tunnel. The grates were few and far between, and when she looked down, she saw only darkness.

Was this the basement? She hoped so.

She finally came to one last grate, and saw the soft glow of a candle. Erik lay on his bed, one arm thrown over his head, blankets tossed off to reveal nothing but a pair of shorts. His eyes were closed in sleep, his mask upon the floor.

Christine took a deep breath and tugged at the grate that separated her from her goal. It was unyielding.

She tugged harder, and it flew from her hands with a clatter, causing the girl to lose her balance and fall through the hole ... landing on top of the man she had so desperately searched for.

Before Christine could offer an apology for her sloppy landing, she found herself on her back, Erik's forearm pressed hard against her windpipe. "Er-ik" she choked out.

When Erik realized who his intruder was, he immediately released the pressure on her throat. "Christine? I didn't know!" He then looked down at her, brow furrowed. "Why did you come through the air-ducts?"

"I had to find you without anyone seeing me," she explained. "Bobby's back… and he's kind of _dead_."

With a curse, Erik quickly got to his feet. "I thought I sensed _something _last night!"

In full Hunter mode, Erik immediately stripped down and pulled out more fight-appropriate clothing

"ERIK!" Christine sputtered.

He turned to see the girl staring at him, eyes wide, a hand upon her mouth.

"I'm right _here_! And you're… _naked_!" she blurted out, then reminded herself to glance away, face flushed.

"It was instinct. Forgive me - I will be more considerate in the future." Erik apologized, and once he was fully clothed, he grabbed his duster from the hook on the wall and tugged it on. "Stay here. I will be back as soon as I can."

Before Christine could say another word, Erik was gone.

Christine closed her eyes, her breathing shaky. _I saw! Everything! _The burning in her cheeks was almost painful.

She quickly grabbed one of Erik's pillows and buried her face in it, inhaling the scent he had left behind, the memory of what she had seen returning.

_Naughty Christine! What kind of thoughts are you having about your poor Erik? _

* * *

**Basement Hall**

Erik went to the fuse box and yanked down the power lever, throwing the entire building into darkness.

It was a necessary line that had to be drawn.

It was enough Erik had made his presence known to the Ravelle students both on Christine behalf and to assist Giry in teaching the finer points of music, but he would be damned if he let the students find out he battled the undead on a regular basis.

Tonight, the ghost of Ravelle would sink into the darkness once again.

* * *

**Residence **

Confused and excited, College co-eds ran around the building with flashlights and candles. Rumours and sightings of the ghost ran rampant, and everyone wanted in on the action.

It was the most entertainment they had had in a week full of stressful assignments and tests.

Erik could not find the time to be amused by their actions. He was lurking along the main floor when he sensed Bobby nearby - or rather, what USED to be Bobby.

He followed his senses to the College gym, long since abandoned due to the blackout, and slid the stake out of his pocket before heading inside.

He got no more than five feet when a barbell flew at his head, silently thanking his quick reflexes for ducking it.

"Finally we're on equal footing!" Bobby started as he circled in the shadows around Erik. "By the way, tell Christine that I like her as a blond. That girl is hot as hell!"

Erik's grip on the stake tightened, jaw clenched. "You have no right to speak about her!"

Bobby snorted. "Like YOU do? She hasn't even let you screw her yet!" Erik saw him shrug in the darkness. "Then again, what girl would want her body to be tainted by something like you?"

Erik watched Bobby's every movement as the boy continued his incessant stalking. "You can see pretty good in the dark, can't you?" he asked as noted that Erik's eyes had not once left him. "What _are_ you anyway?"

"The angel of death!" Erik snapped, shooting a fist out to catch Bobby in the mouth before the boy could blink.

"Son of a bitch!" Bobby hissed, wiping the blood from the corner of his lip.

He sent the Hunter staggering back with a kick to the stomach and pressed his advantage, taking a swipe at Erik's face. The masked man dodged it easily.

"I've probably touched her more than you have, you know," Bobby taunted. "We used to partner together all the time. She has the softest little curves." He laughed at the fierceness in Erik's eyes. "Oh, am I pissing you off?"

Erik let out a shout as he tackled Bobby to the ground. "DO NOT SPEAK ABOUT HER!"

His temper allowed Bobby to connect a punch to Erik's throat, causing the taller man to choke momentarily.

His wits quickly returning, Erik ducked a sweeping roundhouse and landed a kick to Bobby's jaw. He was about to continue the assault, but the sound of steel being pulled from a sheath stopped him cold.

"Don't move, freak!" Bobby hissed as he held a large dagger before him. "Even with this new strength, I wasn't sure whether it was enough to beat you, so I brought some insurance!"

Bobby's hand began to shake. "You ruined my life! After you threw me off the goddamned roof, I KNEW I'd never be able to dance again! My body was a mess! But you didn't give a shit about that, did you? You don't give a shit about _anything_!"

"Is that why you decided to go in for the undead look?" Erik asked calmly.

"I wouldn't talk about _looks _if I were you!" Bobby lunged at Erik, causing the masked man to feel a sharp sting just below his shoulder as the dagger made contact.

Allowing his instincts to take over, Erik's hand shot out, grabbing Bobby's wrist and squeezing until the boy had no choice but to drop the weapon in his hand. Erik then twisted the bone severely, smirking coldly as he heard a sickening crack.

Without a second thought, he threw the screaming boy away as if he were no more than a piece of trash.

Bobby landed hard on the ground, Erik immediately pressing a knee to his sternum as he clamped his right hand around Bobby's throat.

"You haven't been at this undead thing very long, have you?" Erik asked as he raised the stake high and prepared to impale the creature beneath him.

"FREEZE, POLICE!"

Erik quickly jumped away from Bobby's prone form and into the shadows before the high-wattage flashlights could find him.

"That's him! That's the guy who tried to hurt Chrissy!"

Erik recognized Meg's voice, along with Sorelli and Jammes as the flashlight came upon the boy who lay dazed on the floor.

Meg looked over to the left, and he allowed her to catch a quick glimpse of him before he pulled himself silently up into the air-ducts.

No doubt Little Giry would figure out Christine's whereabouts soon enough. Erik was quite content to leave it at that.

* * *

**Outside Residence**

He watched through the window as _the ungrateful one _and the vampire fought.

Having been distracted from his search for a victim, he had been drawn by the commotion within the darkened building, seeing two figures fighting in the college gym.

He frowned when he recalled what they had been fighting about. A pretty girl, of all things.

Pretty things were made to be broken. A beautiful woman would never share herself with a hideous monster. For such a thing to happen was impossible.

Completely, utterly impossible.

* * *

**Erik's Room**

Christine jumped at the sound of the door opening as she tore her eyes away from the flickering candle before her.

"You are still here?" Erik seemed surprised as he walked into the room.

She shrugged. "You told me to stay, remember?"

"Yes… of course… I just didn't think you'd actually _listen_," he replied as he gingerly slid off his duster.

"You ok?" Christine asked when she heard his sharp intake of breath.

"I'll be fine. Your Bobby decided to get stab-happy for a moment."

Christine was immediately on her feet. "Let me see!"

"I told you I will be fine," he answered, then met her eyes and sighed. "Very well. Perhaps I could use your assistance. You know where my first aid kit is?"

Christine nodded and grabbed the kit from the bottom drawer of his desk. She placed it on the bed and went up to him, seeing the difficulty he was having tugging his shirt over his head.

She reached up and helped him remove it, tossing it on a nearby chair, a brief flush coming to her cheeks as she remembered the _last_ time she removed his shirt.

She quickly shook her head, trying not to think of it. "Sit." She indicated the bed.

"A small slice to my left arm," Erik explained as he did as she requested. "In the kit, you will find a sterilized needle and thread."

Christine nodded and went to grab a wet cloth from the bathroom, cleaning the blood that had trailed down the arm from just below his shoulder. She then grabbed the rubbing alcohol in the kit and cleansed the wound itself.

"I… I have to sew you up, don't I?" she asked.

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I will do it," he offered.

Christine shook her head. "You're a lefty. Unless you've suddenly become ambidextrous, it would be better if _I_ do it." She tore open the package holding the needle and thread and took a few deep, calming breaths.

Erik moved only a little to grab the candle with his right hand and bring it closer, the power to the building not yet reset.

Christine hesitated and dabbed at the wound once more.

"I am used to pain, Christine… but blood loss is another matter. As much as you try to clean it, the wound will not stop bleeding on its own." He met her eyes and saw her uncertainty. "Pretend you are sewing me another a mask," he offered. "It is that simple."

Christine nodded and took one more breath before she slid the needle through his skin and began to suture the wound. She swallowed hard to fight back a wave of nausea - sticking a needle and thread through someone's flesh was not exactly pleasant.

Christine glanced up to see if Erik was in any pain, but his face was still covered by the mask, making it near impossible for her to tell.

Releasing a sigh of relief, she put in the last stitch and knotted it tightly, then cleaned up the wound once again and wrapped it before putting away the med-kit and cleaning the blood off her hands.

Christine joined Erik once again, gently patting down the gauze before her fingers traced the faint blue-black lines that could be seen beneath his deathly pale skin.

She then reached over to light another candle as the first one had almost melted to nothing.

"I am sorry for the darkness," Erik spoke softy. "I know it frightens you…"

She offered a small smile as she blew out the match. "The dark isn't so scary when there's a little bit of light."

Erik lifted his right hand and gently ran his fingers through her golden hair. "You deserve more than just a little bit of light."

Christine's voice was quiet as she reached up and slid the mask from his face. "So do you."

She slid her arms around his neck and pulled him down beside her, resting her forehead against his. "Can I stay tonight?" she asked shyly, wondering if he would feel comfortable after what had _almost_ happened between them.

"You may stay as long as you like." he answered.

"But… are you… _okay_?"

"Sweet Christine, I don't even have the energy to _worry_ about the other night."

Christine brushed away a lock of ebony hair to place a soft kiss upon his forehead. His eyes fluttered closed, the touch of her lips finding their way over his harsh skeletal features.

Erik tried to speak her name, but was silenced when her mouth found his.

The parting of her lips, the sweet taste of her mouth, and the feel of her warm pliant body was too much.

Perhaps he had more energy than he thought.

**END OF EPISODE 41**


	42. Episode 42: Closer

_**A/N: As always, a very special thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir. I never would have made it this far without her **_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 42: Closer

By: Elektra

Vodoun priestess Martine Robichaux sat cross-legged before the lone white candle she had placed on the ground.

Taking a piece of paper, she scribbled down a quick phrase before pinning it to the hard wax.

With a deep breath, she lit the wick and began to chant:

_Cleanse the energy around me, Damballah protect me and keep me from harm. _

She repeated the phrase until the wax melted and the pin fell to the ground with a light plink.

The Hunters may find her, but they would never ever catch her.

* * *

**Erik's Room**

Erik could not sleep as he stared into the endless darkness, the candles long since melted to nothing. He glanced over at the clock – the only illumination in the room.

It had happened five hours ago.

He had been injured fighting the creature formerly known as Bobby Stevens, tired from being interrogated the previous night.

But it had still happened.

His senses were more alert then they had ever been before. He was aware of everything around him - the sound of water dripping in the washroom, the scent of apples mixed with a hint of peroxide upon his pillow…

… and the rise and fall of Christine's soft little curves against his body.

Erik closed his eyes.

Christine's kisses had started off sweet and gentle, but had soon grown heated. He could still recall the way she had made herself so very vulnerable to him; how his instincts took over as his logic left him; how his weariness vanished.

Erik remembered something powerful, almost painful, building up inside him. He had held on, desperately trying to keep it at bay… until he could do so no longer.

He would be the first to admit he had long ago lost his icy heart to the girl currently sleeping beside him, but now... now he had lost his damaged body and blackened soul - and she had welcomed both with opened arms.

Erik had not cried since he was a child, nor had he ever intended to do so again - but several hours ago his pride had momentarily left him and the iron grip he had kept on his emotions faltered. He had buried his horrid face in Christine's hair and unashamedly let the tears fall. He had felt her own tears dampen his shoulder and heard her soft voice in his ear.

And then he had asked her to marry him.

Christine had seemed taken aback by the question - until he informed her that she was free to answer any time within the next seventy years.

A smile had spread across her lips then, her arms wrapping affectionately around him.

She did not answer the question, nor did he blame her. Both knew he had spoken before his mind could process the gravity of his words. She did not seem _opposed_ to the idea, however, and soon fell asleep, curled up against him.

Erik now looked upon her peaceful face as he brushed a few golden curls off her forehead.

Did she regret what had happened? Would she wake up and scream that he had polluted her? That he had ruined her? Would she hate him? Would she run? Would she-

"Mmm… you feel nice…" came Christine's soft voice as a hand slid over the lean curve of his hip and gently grasped his backside.

Erik took a shaky breath.

"This is where you're supposed to say 'you feel nice too, Christine'_ …_" Christine muttered against his chest. She wiggled closer, allowing him to savour the feel of her warm skin against his - and unintentionally react to it. "Actually – never mind. It's kind of obvious now."

"Forgive me."

Christine chuckled. "It's okay. Makes me feel special."

"You _are _special," Erik insisted.

"If you keep talking like that, I'm gonna want to repeat what we did last night." A pause. "Um… though… with a bit less zeal, 'cuz … I'm a little…" she tried to find a fitting word "... _achy_... at the moment."

"I am so sorry," he replied guiltily. "I should have realized.You've never..._ neither _of us have ever_-_" he stopped his rambling. It was, perhaps, not the type of thing a girl wanted to hear the morning after.

"I love you," he said instead, gently grasping her chin and tilting her head up to meet her eyes. "So very much," he finished, unable to hide the heated longing and intense emotions warring within him.

Christine swallowed hard. "Erik... if... if you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to forget I'm... _tender_..."

"Christine… I-" But one look from her made it clear no more needed to be said.

With that little bit of encouragement, Erik's curious hands and inquisitive kisses proceeded to commit every inch of his angel to memory.

* * *

**Meg and Christine's dorm - 2 hours later**

The sound of a cell phone startled Meg from her sleep. She glanced at her clock, the glowing numbers telling her it was 9am.

Her phone continued to ring.

With a groan, she grabbed it, not bothering to look at the Caller ID. "What!" she demanded.

"Meg? It's Raoul. Did I wake you?"

Meg was immediately alert. "HEY! Umm… no no… not at all!" she answered quickly. A lie, but he didn't need to know that.

"Oh! Good. I was just wondering if you'd be interested in joining me for a morning coffee." He asked. "I wanted to thank you for the crash course in ballet."

Meg smiled, remembering how Raoul had called her up the other night – before the unfortunate _Bobby_ incident – and had asked her to tell him everything she knew about the great ballet choreographer, George Balanchine.

His new knowledge had gone over quite well with Philip's business associates.

"So? How about it?" he asked.

Meg smiled. "Ok!"

"Great! I'll pick you up in twenty minutes."

"Ok," she repeated, then disconnected the call and stared at the phone, the smile never leaving her face.

… until…

"TWENTY MINUTES!" She immediately jumped out of bed and rushed to get ready.

* * *

**Erik's Room**

A knock at the door startled Erik from his slumber.

Christine was sleeping once again, a leg entwined with his, a hand upon his hip.

He didn't want to leave her. Didn't want to lose the feel of her welcoming softness against his undeserving body.

The knock came again. "Erik? Open up! It is important!"

Erik growled at the sound of Giry's demanding voice – could that woman _never_ leave him in peace?

At least she had chosen her moment of interruption better this time.

With a brush of lips over Christine's bare shoulder, Erik reluctantly unwound himself from her warm embrace.

Sighing wearily, he slid off the bed and grabbed his mask and sleep shorts, quickly tugging them on before he opened the door to a fretting Giry.

"I was told by Sorelli that Robert Stevens came back last night and made a disturbing scene in the student lounge," Giry explained. "I have not seen Christine this morning and I do not know where she could-"

"Christine is fine, Antoinette." Erik interrupted the woman, keeping his voice quiet so as not to wake the aforementioned girl. "Bobby returned a little less _alive_. I had a scuffle with him."

"He was _turned_?" she asked. Erik nodded. "And he is finished now?"

Erik shook his head. "Unfortunately not. The police arrived at a most inopportune time. With their weapons trained on me, I did not relish the idea of getting injured again." he indicated the gauze on his arm. "The boy had a knife – and very shaky hands."

Giry massaged her temples, understanding the position Erik had been in. "Perhaps we should have kept a better eye on him. I had no idea he would go to such extremes to get back at you." She tried to walk into the room but Erik stepped in front of her.

"You did not ask permission to enter," Erik replied.

Giry looked up at him, brow furrowed. Why did it seem as if he were hiding something?

"Erik?" a soft voice spoke in the darkness of the room. "Who's at the door?" Christine, now dressed only in Erik's discarded shirt, walked up beside him. "Madame Giry!"

"Christine?" Giry replied, surprised to see the girl in such a state of undress. Giry then looked up at Erik, disapproval clear on her face. "Erik?"

Erik shrugged. "I _did_ tell you she was fine, Antoinette."

Giry glanced back at Christine, seeing the telltale signs of an ardent night upon the girl's flushed skin.

The older woman raised her eyes to the masked man once again, a frown upon her lips. "What have you _done_, Erik?"

"It was not only _me_, Antoinette."

"Yes…but…" Giry protested. "She is only a _child_!"

"She is _twenty-one_!" Erik replied.

"And I'm standing right _here_!" Christine finally spoke up. She then hugged Erik's arm and buried her face against it. "And feeling really _awkward _too, thanks."

Giry wanted to say more, but shook her head. "I should have known this would happen. It was old-fashioned of me to think otherwise."

She took a deep breath and made eye contact with Christine. "I only hope you were careful enough not to risk your career."

Without another word, Giry turned around and headed back up the hallway.

Christine furrowed her brow. "What does she mean _careful enough_?"

Erik groaned at his own foolishness - such a thought had not even occurred to him. "We did not take precautions," he mused out loud.

"Precautions?" Christine asked, then understood what he was referring too. "OH! Um… I… I've sort of been _unintentionally _taking precautions since a really embarrassing female moment back in high school. No worries."

Erik had never felt such relief.

He went to sit on the bed, Christine following behind him. He tugged her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I should have asked beforehand."

Christine placed a light kiss atop his head. "I don't think you were coherent enough."

A ghost of a smile played upon his lips. "No. I most likely wasn't." He tightened his grip and held her for several moments before he spoke again.

"I hate to part from you, but there are a few things I must do today. Such as find out why Leroux saw fit to interrupt us a few nights ago with accusations."

Christine nodded as she absently played with the ebony locks that hung just past his shoulders. "Maybe I'll go see a movie with Meg this afternoon. Cheap Saturday matinees." She slid her arms around Erik's neck. "But I'll see you _tonight_, right?"

"Of course. I have planned a lesson to help you with your vocal final."

Christine smirked. "And after the lesson?"

"I will leave that up to you."

* * *

**Starbucks Coffee**

"So it went over well?" Meg asked as she took a sip of her caramel macchiato, looking across the table to the youngest DeChagny. She wondered if he noticed her new perfume.

Raoul nodded. "Very well! They were quite impressed. The two ladies are ballet fanatics and have given a lot to various dance companies and arts programs. My bro, he wants to go into the arts. Wants to invest in The Populaire, specifically, but he needs some extra backing. That place kind of relies on investors to keep afloat. They get a cut of the profits."

Raoul then glanced away, looking a little uncomfortable for a moment.

"What's wrong?" Meg asked.

"Well Phil – ever the opportunist – um… kind of mentioned I was… _seeing_… a ballet student."

Meg's face fell. "He still thinks you're dating Christine."

"No."

Meg looked up at him, brow furrowed. "What then?"

Raoul met her eyes. "He thinks I'm dating _you_."

Meg's heart nearly leapt out of her chest. "M-me?" she squeaked.

Raoul bit his lower lip nervously. "Well, he caught us that one time when we were trying to listen in on his conversation with that freaky guy… Shay. I mean, we were kissing in the closet, Meg! You can imagine what he thought! And hey-"

He quickly grabbed her hand reassuringly. "I know it was all for cover and didn't mean anything, but … I couldn't tell him we were eavesdropping, so…"

Raoul shrugged and pulled his hand back. "I'm sorry, Meg. I made a mess of it. I guess it doesn't help that I tell him when we hang out together. He thinks we're… you know… a_ couple _now."

"Oh," was all Meg could say.

"Um…" Raoul looked uncomfortable again. "And… well… I guess I had an ulterior motive for inviting you out this morning." He stirred his cappuccino nervously.

Meg eyed him warily. _Great. What now?_

He glanced at her, then looked away again. "These ladies… they want to meet you. Phil's got some business to talk to them about and they're having a dinner party in a few weeks, so he needs to make an appearance. Told me I should come with, and bring my... _girlfriend_..."

Raoul had the decency to look embarrassed. "He wants you to butter them up, I think. You're hoping to dance at the Populaire one day, and he believes it would be nice for them to see 'the future'… or some such crap."

He looked like a regretful puppy. "I'm so sorry, Meg. This must put you in an awkward position."

Meg smiled, leaning over the table to brush a dirty-blond lock of hair off his forehead. "Not a problem. I'd love to do it."

His blue eyes lit up. "Really?"

_Yes, you gorgeous idiot! I've got a huge crush on you! _"Sure. Why not? Could be fun." she shrugged nonchalantly.

"Thank you so much, Meg! You won't regret it!" Raoul smiled. "I'll call you when I find out more details."

"Call me before that." Meg said quickly, then immediately took on an air of indifference to cover up her eagerness. "I mean, we have to pretend like we know all about each other, right? So… we should _get _to know all about each other."

"Good point!" Raoul exclaimed as if the thought had not occurred to him before. "Ok then. We'll make plans to hang out and chat."

Meg's smile could not be brighter. "It's a date!"

* * *

**Nadir Khan's Apartment – that afternoon**

Madeline was lounging on the couch, watching the Movie of the Week when she heard the knock upon the door.

She rose to answer, and froze when she saw who stood there. "Erik?"

"Madeline," Erik acknowledged as he looked down at the woman before him. "Where is Nadir?"

She shuddered at the coolness of his voice, quite aware he was not happy to see her. "He... he's just taking a shower. Come in. Sit. Um... maybe we can talk?"

Erik sat down on a chair, but did not seem overly interested in talking.

Madeline sat across from him nervously. "How have you been?" she asked.

"Fine," came Erik's short reply.

"And how is Christine? She doing ok in school?"

"Christine is fine. Currently excelling in Vocal Techniques IV."

_At least that was a full answer_, Madeline thought. "And you two are doing well?"

"Quite well."

"I'm so glad," Madeline replied. She was silent as she studied her son for a moment, then had to swallow the gasp when she noticed something about his current demeanor

Erik glared at the woman before him, a scowl upon what little could be seen of his face. "Why are you smiling?"

Madeline just shook her head, the smile never leaving her lips. She knew what a satisfied man looked like, and right now - despite his frigid attitude - Erik was a very satisfied man.

"Erik? I was not expecting you." A freshly showered and clothed Nadir started as he entered the living room.

"I'm sure you boys have business. I'll be around if you want me." Madeline replied as she stood up and excused herself from the room.

"You actually decided to visit your mother?" Nadir asked, surprised.

"It was not _her _I came to visit!" Erik explained. "I want to know what you've heard about the latest rash of murders."

Nadir furrowed his brow, surprised by the question. "Since when have you cared about crimes outside those that involve the guild?"

"Since Leroux dragged me down to headquarters and gave me the third degree - after confiscating my weapon for _testing_!"

Nadir winced. "I TOLD him you would have nothing to do with such wanton killing!"

"He will always think OTHERWISE, Nadir. There is a _reason_ he made me the guild's executioner."

Nadir could not argue. "I should give you a heads up. He may ask you your whereabouts last night. There was another one."

Erik scoffed. "I was busy fighting one of _them_. An former student of the school who took personal issue with me."

"He is dust then?" Nadir asked.

"Unfortunately the police crashed the party. Leroux has probably since dealt with him."

Nadir nodded. "And after the fight?"

Erik was silent a moment. "I was with Christine for the remainder of the night."

Nadir raised an eyebrow. Something about the way Erik had said that... "Ah!" He realized, a smile spreading upon his lips. "I see!"

"Why are you and Madeline grinning at me like fools today?" Erik snapped angrily.

Nadir didn't answer. Instead, he stood up and went to a shelf off to the right, taking a small book from it. "You may find this interesting."

Nadir handed the book to Erik, who impatiently flipped through it, pausing every so often to tilt the book to the left or the right, brow furrowed beneath the mask. "It is amazing how the human body can twist and turn!" he spoke in wonderment, then considered Nadir's impetus for giving him the book.

Erik immediately glared at the man before him, a hand fisting at his side. "I came here to find out about the murders, Nadir!"

"Well you are no fun, Erik!" Nadir pouted. "But very well. Come with me. We will take a look in the police database. Leroux kindly gave me access to it."

With a gesture of his hand, Nadir led Erik to his computer room, the masked man unconsciously slipping the book into the pocket of his duster.

* * *

**Ravelle Residence – Student lounge (three hours later)**

"Any luck finding a good movie to see?" Meg asked as Christine thumbed through the newspaper.

"No, but I did find this!" Christine held open the page for Meg and showed her the advertisement. "A summer workshop at the Populaire!"

"WHAT?" Meg quickly sat herself down beside Christine and grabbed the paper from her. "It says here that they'll be picking from various applicants and showing them what life is like in a dance company!" Her eyes went wide. "Oh Chrissy! This could be a huge opportunity for us!"

"We should apply and see what happens." Christine smiled. "It would be so exciting working in a real theater!"

Meg laughed. "You've _already _worked in a real theater!"

"For one night only," Christine protested. "And it wasn't actually _work_. It was a birthday present!"

"Yeah yeah. Same shit, different pile. I hope you thanked Erik _properly_ for arranging that."

Christine blushed at the insinuation, and Meg's jaw dropped as she realized she was closer to the truth than she thought.

"Holy crap!" Meg gasped as she grabbed Christine's shoulders and turned the blushing girl to face her. "You DID it!"

"What did Christine do?" Sorelli asked as she and Jammes entered the lounge.

Meg thought fast, the pleading look in Christine's eyes making it clear she did not want Sorelli or Jammes to know what Meg had just figured out.

"Chrissy found an amazing ad in the newspaper. Look," Meg quickly showed the other two girls the Populaire's advertisement.

Sorelli and Jammes made plans to apply as soon as possible.

* * *

**Laramie Drive**

Forgotten but not gone, the human-looking creature known as Sytri walked around in what was left of his once-beautiful home. The roof was leaking, the floorboards were creaking, and the broken windows and furniture had yet to be replaced.

The Hunters had destroyed everything in their wake - looking for _him_.

They had come up empty.

He entered the bedroom off to the left only to see a twenty-something boy playing a video game.

"I had another date last night, father," the boy started as he turned his masked face to the man who had just entered. "She was so lovely. Made the most interesting sounds when I pulled the rope tight."

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and held out a thick blonde lock of hair, stained with dried blood. "I kept a memento."

"I'm glad you had a good time… _son_," Sytri answered.

_My, how easy these mortals are to control,_ he thought. The boy - _Adam_ - had no idea what had been done to him.

Leaving the room, Sytri mused on how little effort it had taken to play with this one's mind. He had even managed to convince the boy he was some hideously ugly monster in need of a mask - despite the relative normality of his features. This belief had led the boy into hating all things pretty. Even Martine Robichaux – a Creole lady the boy had hired – would not be safe when the time came.

Of course, Adam thought he was making his _father_ proud with his wanton killing spree – something that had, in fact, been a product of the boy's own long-hidden sadistic streak.

It had both surprised and impressed Sytri that such viciousness existed in one simple mortal. Perhaps that was why it was so easy to make the boy believe his faux history, to make Adam think he had found his long lost father.

_Father indeed_, Sytri thought.

Sytri was only father to _one_ bastard child - the one who had _betrayed_ him.

The one Adam had come to believe was his ungrateful older brother, Erik.

**END OF EPISODE 42**


	43. Episode 43: Society

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir. **_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 43: Society

By: Elektra

**Meg and Christine's dorm room**

Meg was practically tearing her room apart. Christine was off having a vocal lesson with Erik, and she was at a loss.

_Maybe I should have gone shopping…_ she thought. _But what does a girl wear to impress a bunch of business people – and still look sexy for her date?_

"You don't know much about this high society stuff, do you?"

Meg spun around, startled to see Sorelli standing in the open doorway, arms crossed as she looked down her four-thousand dollar nose at her.

"I don't know ANYTHING about this high society stuff!" Meg replied hopelessly.

Sorelli rolled her eyes. "Come to my room. I'll find something for you. God knows I've been to enough dinner parties on my dad's behalf."

The two headed into the neighbouring room, and Sorelli opened her closet. "I only have a couple gowns with me. The rest are at home. But maybe we can find something."

Meg glanced at her. "You go to a lot of dinner parties on campus?"

"No, not really. The social events here are somewhat disappointing, to be honest." She sighed. "But I'm always prepared, just in case."

"Can I borrow THIS one?" Meg asked as she pulled out a black and silver gown from the closet.

"Fine. Take it. But know it's my favourite dress, so if you wreck it, you pay for it!" Sorelli warned.

"How much was it?"

"Eight-hundred dollars."

Meg would make sure not to wreck it.

* * *

**Giry's Office - two hours later**

"Any word on the woman I keep running into, Antoinette?" Erik asked as he dropped down from the air ducts for an update.

Giry stood up and grabbed a piece of paper from her fax machine, holding it out to Erik. "Well, our scouts have found that lady you were wondering about. She is rather well-known in her field. That she keeps eluding you is not unusual. Many have tried, all have failed."

"_I_ DO NOT fail!" Erik hissed angrily. "I have never failed a task set before me." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall wearily. "There is a reason I have yet to execute her, Antoinette."

Giry raised an eyebrow. "And what would that be? Some spell of protection?"

Erik shook his head. "I do not think a spell has anything to do with it," he admitted.

The truth was, Erik simply did not _care _to shed her blood. Not tonight, not since he had first seen her. In fact, he did not care to shed _anyone's _blood. He would rather be spending time with his beloved.

Like any _normal _man would.

Giry sighed heavily. "Regardless, we still do not know who hired her. Perhaps our resources are best suited to find THAT out first. A woman like her does not do something just for the sake of doing it."

Erik nodded. "Any hint as to where she may be? I could keep an eye on her."

"Rumour has it that she plans to attend some kind of dinner party tonight at the manor of Madame Aleese DuBois. You know the place, I believe." Erik nodded. "Good. Apparently, she is _officially_ afinancial consultant and her presence was requested there tonight."

"Glad she has a day job when she's not busy raising corpses," Erik muttered.

"Yes, well…" Giry handed him a folder. "The dinner party begins at seven o'clock."

* * *

**DuBois Manor – 7:30pm**

Erik slowly slunk around the back of the large building that made up DuBois Manor.

Thus far, he had managed to evade the men at the gate by sneaking through tunnels below ground, and had avoided the various security guards milling about the property.

He was nothing more than a shadow.

_Pitiful security, really_. He thought.

He glanced in the window beside him, looking to see if he could spot Martine. All he saw, however, were shimmering gowns, a five-piece orchestra, and various upper class individuals dancing a waltz.

But… was that…

"Little Giry!" Erik said aloud as he saw Christine's best friend with the younger DeChagny's arm around her waist, his fingers caressing her slender hip.

He frowned. Perhaps Giry needed to be informed of Raoul's conduct with her only child.

Familiar with the property, Erik continued around the building to the servants' entrance and slipped into the empty hall, aware that all the servants were tending to the lady of the house and her guests.

He continued down the narrow opening until he reached the back staircase. He slowly climbed up, and slid through the door to find himself in a hallway filled with portraits of several people long since dead. The DuBois ancestors.

"YOU there! FREEZE!"

Erik spun around to see two security guards appear before him, weapons at the ready.

He cursed under his breath, holding his empty hands out to the side.

_What a sight I must make – a masked man dressed in black lurking about a wealthy home. _

One of the guards spoke into his walkie-talkie, informing the others around the manor of the intruder as the second guard pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

Perhaps he should remind the guards who was currently designing Madame DuBois' upper west wing.

_Although, sneaking around without her knowledge might be a little hard to explain. _Erik mused.

He soon realized an excuse for his presence would not be necessary, however, when a door opened off to the left. The sounds of the orchestra wafted into the hallway as two young people stepped out.

"He's with us!"

Erik glanced to the source of the voice only to find it was Raoul DeChagny himself, Meg Giry by his side.

"He came as my guest." Raoul offered an almost painful smile, and Erik was certain the boy was clenching his teeth as he forced the words from his mouth.

"Yessir, Mr. DeChagny." The first guard nodded in response, and motioned for the second to move away from Erik. The two guards then continued their rounds.

Erik glared at Raoul and Meg. "What was THAT?" he demanded. "I am no guest of _yours_!"

"Hey, no problem. I can call them back and have them arrest you instead," Raoul offered.

Meg spoke up quickly. "We heard one of the guards walkie-talkies. They said something about a masked man in the Ancestral Hall so…" she shrugged. "We figured you don't just crash parties without a reason." She then smiled up at Raoul. "Nice save!"

Raoul responded brightly. "Thanks. It was the first thing I could think of. Considering my brother and I are guests of honour, we were given leeway to invite-"

"Yes. Wonderful." Erik interrupted. "Now if you do not mind, I am looking for someone." He began to walk away.

"What, no _thanks_?" Raoul asked. "I just saved your ass from jail!" He then smirked. "Guess that means you owe me one, huh?"

Before Erik could respond, Meg broke in. "Actually, it means you need to hang out with us for the rest of the night."

"WHAT?" Erik and Raoul replied in sync.

Meg shrugged. "You can't just walk around. You're supposed to be our guest, so, you need to stick with us - well, until we introduce you to the lady of the house at least." She furrowed her brow. "Couldn't you have dressed up a little or something?"

"I did not plan to make my presence known," Erik grumbled.

Meg stepped up to Erik and studied him for a moment. "Hmm… maybe we can do something here. Take off the duster."

"My weapons are in it!" He hissed.

"I'm trying to help you, Erik." Meg looked up at him. "Or I'll tell Christine you were being bitchy again."

Erik's golden eyes shifted beneath the mask. With a grunt, he shrugged the duster off, letting it fall to the ground.

"Ok. The sexy velvet pants are fine. Cute butt…" She winked.

"HEY!" Raoul snapped, not sure why he felt a sudden rush of jealousy.

Meg looked over and smiled at him. "You have a cute butt too, Raoul." She then turned her attention back to Erik.

"Ok, the boots are cool." She bit her lip and thought a moment. "But the shirt…" she motioned to the large staircase to the left. "We might have to go searching."

Raoul crossed his arms. "It's standard etiquette not to go wandering the house without a chaperone when you're a guest!"

Meg shrugged. "There could be something useful in one of the rooms upstairs. Come on." She headed over to the large oak staircase and made her way up, looking back to see if the two men were following.

Erik was only a few feet behind her, holding his duster. Raoul, on the other hand, was simply staring at her aghast. "What?" she asked. "Don't you want to check this place out? Move that sweet DeChagny ass!"

Raoul reluctantly followed.

As they reached the top, Meg sucked in a breath. "Wow..." she gasped as she stared down the wood paneled hall, a lush red carpet leading the way to the West wing and the East wing – the former blocked by yellow construction tape. "Must be nice to have money." She sighed.

"Well, it is not _horrible_." Erik replied knowingly.

"As if _you _know anything about money." Raoul snorted. "Living in a basement."

"High society never appealed to me. I am sure you can figure out _why_," Erik replied bitterly. "But that does not mean I could not _afford _it."

"What? Do you get paid per Hunt or something?" Raoul asked.

Erik turned down the East hall. "You forget _whom _your brother commissioned to design the new DeChagny summer home last year." He glanced back at Raoul. "Do you think he was my _only _client?"

His long stride led him several feet in front of Meg and Raoul, who had to rush to keep up.

"Wait, Erik - where are you going?" Meg asked.

He tilted his head to the left hallway. "The master bedroom is down this way."

Raoul eyed him suspiciously. "And how do you know?"

"Because I needed a copy of the blueprints to remodel the West wing." He glanced at Raoul and motioned behind him. "Or did you not notice the yellow construction tape blocking that side off?" Erik then grew serious. "I really should reprimand the crew for their delays."

"Woah!" Meg gasped as she ran to reach Erik's side. "The rich old lady is _another _client?"

"One of many." Erik replied, and said no more as the three continued down the hall.

* * *

**O'Grady's Bar – outside**

Christine kept her ears and eyes alert as she walked the two blocks from her place of work to the bus stop. Someone was following her.

Normally, Erik would pick her up from work on his bike - which she had finally gotten used to - but tonight, he was otherwise occupied.

Christine quickened her steps, glancing back and forth purposely, making sure whomever was following her knew she was aware of their presence.

Erik's self-defense instructions kicked in as a hand reached out to grab her.

"Miss Daaé!" A voice gasped as a figure jumped away from her.

"Mr. Khan!" Christine realized when she saw the olive skinned man beneath the lamplight. "I'm so sorry. I thought someone was following me!"

"Yes. _I_ was." Nadir replied with a sheepish smile. "Erik asked me to keep an eye on you tonight. He worries about you."

"Because of the co-ed killings?" she asked.

Nadir nodded. "As well as general concern for your well-being."

Christine smiled at that. "He worries a lot."

"You are very special to him, Miss Daaé."

"You can call me _Christine_."

"You may call me Nadir." He offered, then studied her for a moment. "Tell me, Christine… have you ever met Erik's mother?"

"Um, I met her once. When she first got out of jail. Erik had to be there and asked if I wanted to come with. I didn't really talk to her or anything."

She glanced away. "To be honest, Mr. Khan - Nadir. I don't know what I'd say to her. Erik told me what happened between them when he was a kid. I'm worried if we _do _talk, it'll end badly. She may not like what I have to say."

"Maybe she needs to hear it," Nadir replied. "Would you like to see her tonight? Erik will not be home for a while yet. It is better than going back to spend a lonely night in Residence."

Christine remained unsure. "I don't want to make things worse between them."

"As it stands now, that would be impossible." He held a hand out to her. "Come. Please?"

* * *

**DuBois Manor**

Erik stared at the pile of clothing Meg had thrown on a trunk after raiding a rotted wardrobe filled with garments that looked old enough to belong to the DuBois ancestors themselves.

Their search of the house had led them up to the attic.

Erik picked up a black silk shirt that looked like a throwback to the Middle Ages. It smelled musty and was in desperate need of airing out, but he didn't have that luxury.

With a sigh, Erik tugged off his current top. "Chrissy really should cut her nails," Meg commented as she saw the little scratch marks across his chest.

Raoul turned to her, brow furrowed. "What's _that _supposed to mean?"

Erik closed his eyes and winced. Sometimes the girl spoke before she thought.

"Oh… um… nothing." Meg quickly changed the subject. "Hurry, Erik. Put the shirt on before we get caught."

Raoul's eyes fell on Erik suspiciously, but he dared not voice his thoughts.

* * *

**Thirty minutes later**

Christine sat silently before Madeline as Nadir offered the two refreshments.

"Christine. It's nice to finally get a chance to talk to you," Madeline began. "I love your hair. Blonde suits you."

"Thanks," Christine muttered. She had never been faced with a more unpleasant situation. "Erik was sweet enough to pay for it." She met Madeline's eyes, driving the point home. "Erik does _a lot _of sweet things."

"Of course," Madeline replied as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "He could be a sweet boy when he wanted to be."

Christine bit her lip, not wanting to say what was on her mind. It wasn't her place.

_YES, it IS your place! _A voice in the back of her mind told her. _Say it._

Christine took a deep breath and spoke. "They _WHY _did you treat him like garbage?" she demanded.

Nadir had wanted her to speak to Madeline, and speak she would. She just would not be polite about it.

"_Why _did you make him feel like he was some sort of evil monster?" Christine continued. "Why did you tell him no one would ever LOVE him! Why did you HURT him so much?"

Madeline's face fell. "Things were complicated…" she tried to explain, but Christine would hear none of it.

"He was scared to _touch_ me!" Christine informed the woman. "Do you have _any_ idea what it's like to have feelings for someone who's afraid to _touch_ you?" She could feel the tears burning, but she had much to get off her chest.

Ms. Renau needed to know _what_ she did to her son.

"He _ran away_ the first time I kissed him, Madeline! RAN AWAY!" Christine hit her tiny fist on the arm of the chair. "Because he thought I was _offended_ when he responded! He thought he was some horrible creature who had no _right _to act like a man! Who had no right to feel what he was feeling!"

Christine was shaking now. "He told me _I _gave him his first hug! _Last year_. He went THAT long without a single _hug_!"

"I was SCARED!" Madeline finally interrupted.

"Of WHAT?" Christine shot back. She suddenly stood up and turned to Nadir, who had thus far watched their heated interaction with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Khan. I told you this wouldn't end well. I think I'll just go back to my dorm and get some sleep."

"Of HIM!" Madeline jumped to her feet, answering Christine's earlier question. "He was … _wrong_! So very _wrong_!"

Madeline ran a shaky hand through her hair. "I had no money. I was a whore who had been knocked up. How could I make my living with a _kid_?

"I thought he needed medical attention! I thought… I don't know – he was so thin. Almost skeletal. I didn't know if he'd even live! And his _face_! What kind of baby is born with such a face?" She fell into her seat as Christine turned back to her, waiting for elaboration.

"Dammit…" Madeline sighed beneath her breath. She watched Christine slowly resume her chair. "I was _your _age, Christine. Maybe even younger. I'd been selling myself on the street for two years by then. I didn't even graduate high school."

She slowly massaged her temples. "I didn't know anything about raising a child! And I wasn't mature enough to accept that he was _different_."

"Erik's father had disappeared the moment he saw his son. I figured if Erik had been a _cute _baby, a _perfect_ baby, maybe Shay would have stayed."

Madeline folded her hands in her lap. "I thought Erik would have no end of medical problems, but that boy wasn't sick a day in his life! Despite the way he looked, how thin he was, he was perfectly _healthy_!

"It might be hard to understand how a healthy baby could frighten his momma… but when he started his first words at six months, walking on his own at eight months, and harmonizing while banging away at a piano at one year-old, I knew something wasn't right! At that time, I had no idea what Shay was." She let out a harsh laugh. "I STILL don't know what he is…"

She then glanced away, wringing her hands nervously. "Shay had a fierce temper. And Erik inherited it. I don't mean a child's temper tantrums. I mean a full, terrifying temper! Before he was two, he began to speak in complete sentences. Absolutely coherent, as if he were years older!

"And he would let me know how he felt. He would let me know when he disliked my behaviour. Or what I prepared for dinner. Or… anything, really. And his eyes…" She shook her head. "When he was angry, those eyes…" She let out a harsh laugh.

"He was my dark little secret. No one knew about him. When I was busted for possession, prostitution and theft, the Feds were surprised to find drugs and stolen merchandise weren't the ONLY things I was hiding in my apartment."

"I know all about his anger, Madeline." Christine explained softly. "I've _seen _it. But I also know how to _calm _him."

"How?" Madeline asked, surprised that such a thing could be done.

"A touch," Christine shrugged. "Maybe a hug. A kiss. A gentle word. All those things _you_ could have given him, but never did."

Madeline looked ashamed. "I know. I should have loved my son."

Christine met Madeline's eyes, her own filled with confusion. "How you could _not_ love him?"

* * *

**DuBois Manor**

Erik, Raoul and Meg entered the room where the guests had gathered to socialize. Madame DuBois waved them over, her financial advisor beside her looking far too familiar to Erik.

"I see you two have a guest?" DuBois asked as she studied Erik curiously, her eyes straying to the mask.

Before Raoul could speak, Erik spoke up. "You already know me, Madame." he bowed politely. "Erik Garner."

"OH!" She seemed overjoyed as she grasped his hand and shook it enthusiastically, and turned to the coffee-skinned woman beside her. "Martine Robichaux, Erik Garner." DuBois introduced the two.

"This is the man I was telling you about, Martine." She babbled on. "He designed my new upper wing. I highly recommended him if you're looking to remodel your home."

Martine studied Erik with dark eyes. He knew she recognized him. How could she not? "It's nice to know your name, Mr. Garner." She held a hand out to him. Erik did not take it.

"Ms. Robichaux. Likewise." Erik tilted his head in acknowledgement.

DuBois glanced back at Erik, oblivious to the uncomfortable interaction. "I've recommended you to some of my friends. I hope you don't mind receiving a few calls in the next little while."

"Not at all. I thank you ahead of time." Erik replied.

"Tell me, what brings you here tonight, Mr. Garner?" Martine asked suspiciously, though she knew very well it was her.

Erik narrowed his eyes at the woman, the caught himself and glanced over to Raoul. "I am Mr. DeChagny's guest. A patron of the Populaire myself."

"Are you now?" Madame DuBois interrupted excitedly. "Do you have an eye for ballet as well?"

Erik offered the older woman a small smile. "I prefer the operas."

"I would be interested in hearing what you have to say about opera," Martine interrupted. "I simply don't understand the motives of some of the characters."

Erik's attention immediately went to her. "It can often get complicated, Ms. Robichaux. Sometimes things are not always what they seem."

Martine smiled at this. "We should have a one-on-one discussion sometime soon. I'm sure it would be rather interesting to see how it turns out." She turned to Madame DuBois. "Pardon me, Aleese. I see someone I need to speak to."

"Of course," DuBois replied.

With a flick of her mahogany hair, Martine disappeared into the crowd.

Erik attempted to go after her, but Madame DuBois quickly took his arm and insisted on introducing him to her guests.

When the evening was over, Erik Garner had found himself several new clients.

The _Executioner_, however, had lost his quarry once again.

* * *

**Erik's Room – the next day**

Erik sat upon his bed and stared at the police reports that Nadir had so kindly acquired for him (without Leroux's knowledge, no doubt).

Three more murders in as many weeks. Females in their early twenties, students at various local colleges.

All had been strangled, their faces mangled post-mortem.

Erik had been called the _stalker-boyfriend_ by Sorelli in jest once. But he preferred to think of himself as Christine's guardian angel, for that was the main reason he had again taken to lurking in the shadows once night fell.

His concern for Christine's safety far outweighed how she would react if she ever found out he was following her.

"Erik! You home!"

Erik's thoughts were interrupted as he heard an excited voice call through the other side of his door, followed by an eager pounding for entrance.

"Come in, Christine," he called back.

In a blur of golden hair, Christine burst through the door and tackled Erik flat on his bed then pushed herself up to sit upon his stomach. "I GOT ACCEPTED!" she squealed, holding a piece of paper in front of him.

He took it from her, leaving the girl to continue sitting where she was, and read it. "The summer dance workshop at the Populaire?" he asked.

She nodded eagerly. "I'll be there mostly for the dancing, but I'll also get a chance to learn how real operas are performed and all the stuff that goes into it! OH… and maybe… maybe I might get another chance on stage!"

Christine then lay down atop him, her head on his shoulder, a hand absently snaking beneath his shirt. "It's going to be amazing, Erik!"

"It will be a wonderful opportunity," he agreed. "Do you know if any of your fellow students were accepted?"

"OH! Yes! Meg, Sorelli, and Jammes! No one else though. The rest are from other schools, I'm guessing. I think there were 10 spots altogether."

"At least you will be with your friends then."

She pushed herself up to brush gentle fingers over his sunken cheek. "The only bad part is - _we _won't be able to see each other as much." She pouted.

"Well, I do have ways of getting into places. I am a _ghost_ after all," he replied. "Besides, I would not have so easily abandoned our lessons."

Christine smirked down at him. "Do you mean our _singing _lessons?" She lowered her mouth to taunt the soft skin just behind his earlobe, causing a shiver from the man beneath her. "Or those _other _lessons?"

Erik's voice was shaky when he spoke again. "We are _both_ students in the latter."

He felt her smile against his skin. "You're a faster learner than me. And it stops you from being bitchy all the time," she muttered as she trailed her lips down his neck and slowly pushed his shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the ground without a second thought.

"Christine…"

"Hmm? Something you want to say?" she asked as her kisses made their way over his chest.

With a surprised yelp, Christine found herself on her back, looking up into Erik's heated glare. "I… am NOT… bitchy!"

"Well, not at the _moment_," she tangled her fingers in his hair to pull him down into an intense kiss. "Mmmm… oh!" She suddenly broke contact. "I need to tell you something."

Erik looked tortured, his body making it clear it was a bad time for interruptions. "Now?"

Christine smiled as she tucked a lock of ebony hair behind his ear. "I just think you should know… I spoke to your mother last night."

Erik quickly shoved himself off her, his mood no longer ardent. "Why!" he demanded.

Christine sat up and reached for his arm. He tugged it away. "Erik. Don't be like that! I talked to her because Nadir asked me to, ok?"

Erik slid to the edge of the bed, gripping the mattress with a scowl. "You didn't have to say YES!"

With a sigh, Christine traced her fingers over the scars on his back, then wrapped her arms around him from behind. "But I _did_ say yes," she answered. "And I gave her a piece of my mind."

He was silent for a few moments, then finally spoke. "What did you say to her?"

"I told her I didn't understand how she _couldn't _love you." She moved herself around to slip into his lap. "She had no answer for that, but she wants you to call her, Erik. She wants to apologize for… for everything."

Erik scowled. "What could she say to me, Christine? 'Sorry for making your childhood hell, Son. Sorry for killing any ounce of humanity you may have had'?" he spat.

"Erik-" Christine started, but Erik interrupted.

"For so long, I shut myself off from _feeling_ anything because it was too much. I became cold. Frozen. Taking a life did not matter to me. Not until-" he halted, his voice growing softer. "… until I met _you_."

He lay her down on the bed and pulled her against him, burying his face against her neck. "I want to stop."

"Stop?" She asked, brow furrowed.

"Stop… _executing_. I cannot do it anymore," he hissed fiercely. "I can't hear the screams again. I _can't _watch a lost soul's humanity come back the last second before he dies at my hands! I can't _touch _you with those same hands and pretend there's no stain!"

He met her eyes. "I need PEACE, damn it! For once in my life, I need _peace_."

"Erik!" Christine gasped, startled at his words, yet knowing he meant every one of them.

"You… you are such a good girl, Christine. You have given me so very much, and yet, I still do things that _frighten _you. That frighten _me_ even." He caressed her cheek.

"I have been debating this for a while now," Erik continued. "I will have to explain to Giry, but I'm sure she will understand." He frowned. "Leroux, on the other hand, may not be so accepting."

"You would really stop?" she squeaked, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

"I would. And I would not regret it."

"But… the scary things you fight-"

"I will still fight _the scary things_, as you put it," he interrupted. "I just will not execute the _living_ ones. Let Leroux find another soulless bastard to do his bidding."

"You aren't soulless, Erik," Christine replied.

"Sometimes, I am not so sure," he answered darkly.

"_I_ am," Christine responded, reaching up to brush her lips against his.

He returned the gesture eagerly, his kisses traveling their way down her neck, over her pulse, then back up to her mouth. She reveled in the warmth of his graceful fingers against her skin as they gently slid beneath the cotton of her t-shirt.

Without another word, Christine eagerly wrapped herself around him, glad to give him the one thing he required most of all.

_Peace_...

**END OF EPISODE 43**


	44. Episode 44: Hard Lessons

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir – especially for the ballet scenes! **_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 44: Hard Lessons

By: Elektra

**Giry's office – Saturday morning**

"Mmm… Hello?" Giry heard a sleepy female voice muttering into Erik's cell phone.

"Christine? Where is Erik?"

"OH! Madame Giry. Sorry. Hold on." She heard Christine trying to wake Erik up, followed by a rather annoyed grunt as the phone was finally handed over.

"Yes, Antoinette?" Erik answered sharply. She could practically hear the scowl in his voice.

"You were sleeping?" Giry asked.

"I am tired."

"Really?" she frowned. "Well… I was just going over your report on the latest run in with… _Martine_?" she asked. "At the DuBois manor last week."

"Yes. Martine Robichaux. That is her name." Erik answered.

"Right. Well, there's an annotation here regarding Raoul and Meg."

Giry lifted the paper in front of her and read:

"'I observed Raoul DeChagny's behaviour with a one Megan Giry unbefitting for such a societal function. They seemed to be dancing far closer than proper, his hands slipping inappropriately towards the young girl's backside.

'However, I saw no signs of demonic possession, and concluded that it was indeed the boy's own lustful behaviour guiding his actions.'"

She put the paper down with a sigh. "Why did you write that, Erik?"

"I was simply reporting that his actions were not demonically induced," Erik replied innocently.

"In other words, you disapproved of Raoul's behaviour towards my daughter," Giry pointed out.

"Yes. It was improper."

"Do you realize, Erik, that I have begun to consider _Christine _a second daughter?"

He was silent a moment. "Well… that is very nice, Antoinette."

"Yes, it is. Now, would you care to tell me why Christine answered your phone and why the two of you seem so very tired this morning? Surely you were not … as you put it… _improper_ with her last night?"

"I…" he paused, then spoke again. "I choose not to answer."

Giry sighed. "Why am I not surprised?"

* * *

**Three Weeks Later – Monday Afternoon**

Meg, Jammes, Sorelli and Christine dressed themselves quickly for the first day of classes at the Populaire. They were talking excitedly about their expectations and how they were all looking forward to the program, what their goals were, and where they hoped to go afterwards.

"LADIES!" a loud female voice boomed from outside the dressing room door. "Move!"

The four Ravelle students quickly made their way out with the various other students who had won a position in the summer program.

Giselle LeFleur, their ballet mistress, instructed each and every one of them to stand in front of a wall of mirrors in the next room. They did so without question. " Off with the leg warmers, shoes, skirts."

The students exchanged nervous glances.

"Do you have a problem with my instructions?" Giselle demanded.

They quickly answered in the negative and did as they were asked.

Giselle let them glance nervously at themselves in the mirror for a few quiet minutes, until most eyes were downcast. "Very few of you have the proper body for this type of profession, you understand. Very few," she continued, as she paced behind them, "should remain at their current shape and weight. Everyone in here should be consulting the nutritionist to determine weight management or reduction plans."

She stopped behind Christine. "And some of you simply lack the correct proportions. The neck: too short. The torso: too long. The legs: not nearly long enough. Pilates can help lengthen some of your muscles," she said as she stepped behind Jammes, "and possibly increase the elegance of the épaulement, but many of you just won't make it through a real audition season without serious work."

Christine wrapped her arms around her middle, fighting the urge to cry.

"Put your legwarmers on, if you feel the need. No skirts. You need to be reminded of your instrument's properties and,"—Christine was certain Giselle stared right at her —"its faults."

* * *

**Nadir Khan's Apartment – that evening**

Erik looked over the array of photos and files on the table in front of him: various victims of the mysterious strangler, along with what little information the police had found out.

Madeline came into the room quietly, placing a cup of coffee beside Nadir and a hot tea beside Erik.

"What is this?" Erik asked as he looked warily at the drink.

"You used to like lemon tea with a little bit of honey," Madeline replied, then offered a small smile. "You never did like hot chocolate."

Erik shook his head. "I should be off. The things that go bump in the night will not hunt themselves," he muttered as he stood up.

Truth be told, Christine was busy with her dance workshop, and Erik was finding he had far more free time than he wanted. He had since taken to walking the streets at night and searching for any signs of the strangler, or various other creatures that needed a good dusting.

Erik never thought he would be one to get antsy without the regular attentions of his beloved. Perhaps he would go by the Populaire along the way.

"Erik," Nadir spoke. "At least have your tea?"

Erik looked over to Madeline, seeing the hopeful expectation on her face. _It would serve her right if I simply left it! _.

However, being that it was Nadir's apartment, and that this tea was, no doubt, bought with the man's money, Erik realized he would seem a poor guest indeed to waste it.

He grabbed the mug and finished the tea in one go, refusing to admit that he had enjoyed it thoroughly – and finding it odd that his mother remembered such a small thing after so many years of estrangement.

Erik wished a goodnight to Nadir – and even Madeline, for once – before heading out into the dark to do what he did best.

Hunt.

* * *

**Populaire Dressing Room**

Christine lay on the couch in the Populaire's dressing room, staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

Today had been as close to Hell as she had ever been. First, getting belittled for her imperfections, then finding herself falling behind the rest of the class as she attempted combinations that had left her on her rear more than once.

"Hey, Chrissy?" Meg began as she sat in a chair beside her. "I'm heading to the studio for some extra practice. Mom arranged for me to get a key." She smiled. "It's nice to have connections. Want to come?"

Christine shook her head. "I'm just going to go back to our apartment and curl up in the fetal position, thanks," she muttered. "I've had enough ballet for today."

Meg nodded sympathetically. "Poor gal. You'll get the hang of those combos, I'm sure."

"Thanks, Meggy." Christine said as she pushed herself to her feet. "Don't be too late. Another early day tomorrow."

"Gotcha." Meg winked.

Giving Christine a tight hug goodbye, she quickly headed off to the studio.

* * *

**Outside the Populaire – Fifteen minutes later**

Adam crouched in the shadows outside the Populaire as he looked through the window of the dance studio. He found himself hypnotized by the girl whirling in a blur of strawberry-blond hair before him.

She wore very little in the way of clothing, moved with the grace of a cat, and could stretch her lovely slender legs in a way he had never seen.

He had watched this girl before. Several times, in fact, when she had been attending Ravelle College, and knew she was close with his older brother's _Christine_.

Her name, he now recalled, was Megan Giry.

Adam clutched at the windowpane as his body ached in response to her. Surely this girl knew he was watching! Surely she was dancing for his benefit!

A pretty thing, she was. He hated pretty things. But this… this pretty thing was different. THIS pretty thing he wanted to keep all to himself.

His fingers desperately tried to find an opening between the window and the frame. He had to go to her. Had to touch her.

A firm grip clamped down hard on Adam's shoulder, swinging him around to come face to face with...

"Erik!" Adam gasped as he looked up to see his ungrateful sibling.

Erik cocked his head, golden eyes cold as he regarded the younger boy. "Who are you and how do you know my name?"

Adam said nothing, simply shaking his head.

"WHO ARE YOU!" Erik demanded again, his free hand reaching out in an attempt to snatch the mask from Adam's face.

The younger man tore himself away from Erik with a primal scream, mask still in place as his hands desperately reached into the pocket of his cloak.

The rope was around Erik's neck before he could blink.

Adam glared at the taller man before him, pulling, tugging. Watching as Erik desperately tried to get his fingers beneath the rope.

Adam smiled as the man's pale skin grew blue, the whites of his eyes filling with blood.

But that was not all he saw as he watched the man's suffering, for there was something else. Something wonderful.

_This _was the emotion that gave Adam power. THIS was the emotion he so enjoyed feeding off of.

Erik fell to his knees and yanked hard on the rope, sending Adam off his feet and stealing away the boy's moment of triumph.

"No… you … you _can't_ deny me!" he cried out. He tried to tighten his grip, but it had slackened enough for Erik to get two fingers beneath the noose and pull the rope over his head.

"I SAW it!" Adam pointed out desperately as he hugged the neglected rope against his chest. "I SAW it in your eyes. For only a moment… but I SAW!" He wagged a finger in shame. "Oh, Father would not approve of his older son! Oh no… no he would NOT APPROVE."

Adam continued muttering to himself as he stumbled off into the darkness, glancing back once to see Erik attempting to climb unsuccessfully to his feet, only to collapse unmoving upon the ground.

The prone man quickly faded from view as Adam made his way back to Laramie Drive.

* * *

**Erik's basement – the next night**

Erik was startled awake by the ringing of his cell phone. "Hello?" he began, his voice rough and raspy.

"Erik?" came Christine's worried response. "What's wrong? You sound terrible!"

Erik swallowed through the constriction in his throat, a hand going to his neck. "A cold," he lied.

"A cold? But you've never been sick before!"

"I am _now_!" he snapped harshly, the raising of his voice only resulting in pain.

"I… I'm sorry, Erik…" Christine replied softly. "I just-"

"No… it… it's ok, angel…" he wheezed softly. "Forgive me. I … I'm just not used to being ill."

"Want me to take care of you?" she asked. "Our workshop is over for the day. I can be there in an hour. I'll bring you some chicken soup or something."

"No, beloved. I do not want you to get ill as well. It's best you stay away until I'm healthy."

"But-"

"PLEASE, Christine," he gasped out. "Just be a good girl. Don't worry about me. I've nursed myself through much worse." He broke away to cough harshly, then turned back to the phone. "Promise me you'll do as I say?"

Christine was hesitant. "O-ok, Erik. If you don't want me to see you until you're feeling better, then I won't." She was silent a moment. "I love you."

"And I love _you_."

"I'll call you tomorrow, ok?"

"Of course." Erik replied. The two said their good-byes and disconnected.

Erik pushed himself to his feet, grasping onto his night table for support as he headed into the washroom.

One look in the mirror almost made him ill.

It was enough he looked like Death on a _good_ day, but now, his golden eyes were stained red with broken blood vessels, the sockets looking more sunken in than normal.

Wincing, he ran his fingers over his throat, the dark black bruises blotting out his pale white skin.

Despite the wrenching pain in his body and blinding headache that threatened to tear apart his skull, Erik was alert enough now to realize the boy who had attacked him was the culprit in the recent murders.

The rope and the fact he was watching Little Meg Giry through the window all but proved that.

Erik only wished he had been on his guard, for though he wanted to stop executing, just this once he would have gladly ended that boy's life.

* * *

**Populaire Dance Studio – the next week**

"Christine, the pirouette should be to the left, en dedans, and landing on the count of four, not five," said Giselle with a sigh.

Christine nodded, her heart heavy. When she wasn't in the same group as Meg, she found it difficult to relax and count. She worried that other people were watching her, specifically watching her make mistakes. Ms. LeFleur had already corrected her during the adagio section and the center tendu combination. No one was getting as much attention as she was, and the negativity was wearing Christine out.

"Really Christine, you need to think. Use your head! You can't just come in here and prance about in front of the mirror with a pretty leotard on and hope to have some kind of career!"

Christine saw Meg clasp her hands and look down. She nodded again at her ballet mistress and kept her gaze averted.

"Perhaps you should be in the back of the group next time, so that you don't accidentally land on one of your classmates who _can_ count?"

Giselle waved the next group on, and Meg tried to give Christine a comforting squeeze as she ran out to the floor. Christine wished the ground would just open up and swallow her whole.

* * *

**Air ducts**

Erik made a fist with his right hand as he watched the scene below him. Christine wasn't showing it, but he knew she was trying very hard not to cry at the emotional abuse she was receiving.

How DARE this Giselle say such things to his beloved?

Christine had told him her ballet mistress had made it her mission to point out every little physical imperfection since the first day she had arrived.

Erik had had to remind Christine that there was nothing wrong with her body - he had, after all, studied every lovely inch of it extensively and had found no flaws whatsoever.

Regardless, he was sure to have the girl crying on his shoulder tonight now that he was able to see her, his injuries having finally healed after a few days of recuperation.

He was grateful no one was the wiser as to the reason for his sudden 'illness' and had since informed Antoinette of his suspicions and the possible danger to her daughter.

That was one problem. The _other _problem still stood below him in the dance studio.

Giselle LeFleur.

A cold smirk played upon Erik's lips.

Perhaps it was time the Populaire had found a ghost of its own.

* * *

**Populaire housing apartments – late that evening**

Meg walked into the apartment she shared with Christine only to find Erik sitting upon the couch in front of the television.

"Erik? What are you-"

"Never fear, Little Giry. No one saw me," Erik interrupted quietly.

It was then that Meg noticed a sleeping Christine currently lying on the couch and using Erik's velvet-covered leg as a pillow.

"Of course," Meg replied, realizing that no one would _ever_ see Erik arriving - or leaving – unless he wanted them to. "Is Chrissy ok?"

Erik looked down at his sleeping angel and soothingly ran his fingers through her blonde locks. "She called me in tears tonight. I came immediately. I do not recall ever seeing Christine cry like that before."

Meg nodded and sat on the chair to the left. "Giselle was pretty hard on her today. I'm surprised Chrissy didn't go running from the room." She then smirked a little. "Although something funny happened after class. Giselle found her bag – pointe shoes, street clothes, everything – dumped in the shower and soaking wet. She had to go home in her leotard."

Meg let out a soft laugh. "When she asked who did it, everyone denied it - we were all in class at the time. Someone made a joke that it must have been a gho-" She stopped, her eyes immediately going to Erik. "HEY!"

"Well, you know those old buildings." Erik replied. "Is it any surprise that there are ghosts about?"

"Erik!"

"And I might suggest you don't make a habit of practicing too late, though that is a completely unrelated concern."

"What do you mean?" Meg asked.

"I think you have found yourself a dangerous admirer. I caught him watching you through the studio window last week.," Erik explained.

Meg nodded. "Oh, yeah… Momma mentioned something about that." She glanced at Erik nervously. "What did he look like?"

"He wore a mask." Erik replied simply.

Meg furrowed her brow. "You mean, there's some creepy guy OTHER than you running around with a mask on?"

"I am quite serious, girl. Heed my advice. I may not be around should he come back again."

Meg nodded. "Ok. I'll take your word for it. If _you_ get bad vibes from this guy, then he _must _be bad news."

Erik did not feel the need to tell Meg that the aforementioned boy had recognized him. That alone was enough for Erik to find concern.

"Come, Little Giry. Help me put Christine to bed. She was exhausted and I do not wish to wake her." Erik slid Christine's head off his lap as he pushed to a stand, then bent over the couch and lifted her carefully. "Which room is hers?" he asked, indicating the two bedrooms – an added bonus for Meg and Christine.

Meg led him to Christine's room and he placed her gently on the bed, stepping away and turning his back. "Help her change. Let me know when you are done."

"Like you haven't already seen her naked," Meg muttered.

Erik froze, a hand fisting at his side. "This is the second time you have made a comment eluding to my physical relationship with Christine," he hissed. "I was not aware she had told you."

"She didn't come right out an say it, no," Meg explained. "But I saw the _look _on her face the day after you had your little tussle with Bobby. I mean, Chrissy spending the night in your room was nothing new, but it didn't take a genius to figure out you two did a lot more than just _snuggle_ that particular night." She then offered Erik a small smile. "Don't worry, I promised Chrissy that I wouldn't tell Sorelli or Jammes."

"I see. Thank you for that then," he answered.

Meg shook her head. "You're something else, Erik. The guys _I _know would be shouting it from the rooftops."

"The 'guys' _you _know are hormonally driven college boys who have no sense of discretion," Erik noted.

"Good point. I need to take a page out of Chrissy's book and find me an older man," Meg joked. "Now help me here. I promise I won't tell her you looked."

After a few minutes, Christine was in a fresh pair of pajamas and tucked comfortably in her bed. Erik crouched down beside her, brushing a strand of golden hair off her forehead.

"What is it?" Meg asked when she noticed Erik contemplating Christine.

"I am just amazed how she can be a mature woman one moment, and yet seem so child-like the next," he mused softly.

"Yeah. Chrissy's funny like that," Meg replied, then glanced over to Erik. "That's one of the things you love about her, isn't it?"

Erik was saved from answering as Christine's blue eyes fluttered opened. "Sorry. Did I fall asleep?" she asked.

"You were completely out. We took good care of you though." Meg winked.

Christine furrowed her brow and looked down at herself, noticing her change of clothes.

"Oh… man… I feel like I'm five again," she muttered.

"I'll leave you two alone," Meg said as she headed to the door. "But I don't want to hear any funny sounds coming from this room!" She nearly withered under Erik's icy glare and quickly made herself scarce.

With a sigh, Erik sat upon the edge of Christine's bed. She crawled out from under the blankets and curled herself up in his lap.

"Erik, I need you to be honest with me." She met his eyes. "Do you think I have what it takes to be a professional ballerina?"

"You wish me to be honest, Christine, and I will be." He brushed his fingers gently over her throat. "THIS is where your greatest talent is – in your voice."

He slid his arms around her waist. "If you are looking for a profession, then I suggest you look towards opera." He shrugged. "But ballet is a healthy interest, and the skills you acquire _will_ be useful to you on stage."

A small smile played upon Christine's lips. "Not to mention it makes me really flexible too."

If it was possible, the visible skin beneath Erik's mask grew even paler. "Yes… well…" he cleared his throat nervously. "Flexibility is important. For _many _reasons."

Christine let out a small laugh and hugged him. "Can you stick around for a bit?"

"Doesn't your workshop start early?" he asked.

Christine nodded, a small frown upon her face. "But I'm wondering if it's worth it now."

"At least it will get you familiar with the lifestyle of a performer at the Populaire. If you wish, I will secure Box Five for the weekend so you may see how rehearsals are carried out on stage."

"Right. I forgot you can do that." She said, then lay her head against his. "You didn't answer my question."

"I will stay until you fall sleep, then leave. I will not have you become victim to Giselle again by being tired in class." He kicked off his boots and lay down.

"Erik?" Christine spoke softly as she curled up beside him. "What _really _happened to you last week?"

Erik was silent, unsure how to answer.

"You didn't have a cold, did you?" Christine continued as she reached over to slide his mask off his face. "The truth now."

"Occupational hazard," he answered nonchalantly.

She shook her head. "Not good enough. Your voice is still a bit hoarse." Christine ran her fingers down his neck, "And there are faint bruises here." She then touched the darkened spots around his sunken eyes. "And here too."

"How can you tell?" he asked.

"Because I know your body and I know YOU. Something's different today. Something's… _off_." She said. "What happened, Erik?"

Erik glanced away, realizing now there was nothing he could keep from Christine.

He had never anticipated such a possibility – that someone would ever pay close enough attention to him to notice when something was wrong.

Christine's intuition would be heightened now that their relationship had progressed to the physical. She knew him as no one else ever had - or ever would.

Erik closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again and met her eyes, he realized he had to tell her. "Christine…"

"Yes?"

He gathered her against him and buried his face against her neck, his voice barely above a whisper.

"For the first time in my life, I _feared _death."

**END OF EPISODE 44**


	45. Episode 45: Obsession

**_A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir (especially for the ballet stuff).  
And a big thank you for all the reviews! I read each and every one of them!_**

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 45: Obsession

By: Elektra

**Populaire Dance Studio**

Thirty-two fouettés.

Meg concentrated and started again. _Balancé right, left, sutenu to fourth position, pirouette… and into the turns._

If she ever hoped to secure a position with a company, including the Opera Populaire's resident company, she would need to have this in her repertory. Surely very few dancers ever had the good fortune to dance Odette/Odile in _Swan Lake_, but having the ability to pull off the famed 32 would only make her more marketable.

_Twenty-four, twenty-five, _she mentally counted. On thirty-three, she whipped her leg in to squeeze out a double pirouette, landing in a secure position and extending her arms with a flourish. She imagined that she was costumed as the Black Swan, and had just ensnared the silly Prince Florimund into believing her to be the delicate White Swan with her fantastic series of challenging turns.

Meg took three steps to the mirror and, gesturing to the pretend balcony seats, she took a generous bow.

Meg was startled by the applause that followed her final movement. She spun around to see Raoul leaning against the wall beside the door.

"You're good. _Really_ good," he spoke.

Meg smiled and blushed slightly. "Thanks."

"I should thank YOU," Raoul pointed out. "You charmed Madame DuBois big time. She gave Phil the financial backing he needed."

"So... what exactly does that mean then?" Meg asked as she walked towards him.

"It means that the DeChagnys are now highly important patrons of the Populaire." He leaned forward, his voice growing conspiratorial. "And we seem to have a lot of pull - like being able to get into the dance studio when our friends are practicing."

Without thinking, Meg threw her arms around Raoul and offered him an enthusiastic hug. "That's so GREAT!" she squealed happily. "I'm so glad it worked out for you guys!"

Raoul was taken aback by her emotional gesture, but didn't hesitate to respond, his arms sliding around her. _Long slender arms… tiny little waist._ He quickly shook the thoughts from his mind.

"Raoul?"

"Yes?"

"Your hands are on my butt..."

Raoul quickly let go of her and apologized profusely, embarrassed by his actions. "Sorry. Didn't realize. You... you're just... so short. I mean, not like that's a BAD thing - I think short girls are cute - it's just- I wasn't sure how far to lean down to-"

"Please stop before you hurt yourself," Meg smirked. "At least you didn't squeeze." She then offered a sly wink, "But I do plan to get the grope back sometime in the near future."

Raoul's hand quickly went to his backside. "Before you do, can I interest you in something to eat? My treat."

"FOOD! Yes, please! I haven't eaten since nine o'clock this morning."

Raoul glanced at his watch. "TEN hours ago? Is that the norm for ballet girls?"

"Well, our ballet mistress would prefer if we didn't eat, period. But... you know, I kind of enjoy _living_. Give me a few minutes to change and I'll be good to go!"

Raoul nodded and Meg quickly disappeared into the dressing room.

* * *

**Outside the dance studio**

Adam pulled at his hair as he watched his beloved through the dance studio window. How dare this pretty boy lay his perverted hands on her?

Megan Giry was HIS and his alone. No other man was allowed permission to touch her. To LOOK at her as the other boy - DeChagny - was looking at her.

His lovely swan was only being polite by accepting his invitation, no doubt. Such a sweet little thing she was.

Perhaps he would find a way to protect her from the lecherous DeChagny boy.

* * *

**Milwood and Ritson Financial Services – Two days later**

"Ms. Robichaux?" The secretary poked her head through Martine's door. "Your nephew is here."

"Let him in, Marie," Martine replied, knowing whom the lady was referring to.

Adam would often claim to be her nephew when he needed to see her at the office. And while Martine did not like to be reminded she was old enough to be the boy's _auntie_, he was a paying customer and she, reluctantly, conceded.

Martine noted Adam was not wearing his mask when he walked into her office. It was rare, but there were times he would forget his obsessive – and completely irrational - need for it.

"Shut the door," Martine ordered the fresh-faced boy. Adam did as he was told. "Now what brings you here today? I do not appreciate being disturbed at my day job."

"Someone is trying to take my female away," he said as he sat at the chair in front of her desk. "I want you to do something to him. Something bad."

"You have a female?" Martine asked.

Adam nodded. "Megan Giry. She is a dancer. Oh, she is so lovely!"

Martine eyed the boy warily. She knew the girl of whom he spoke, having met her at the DuBois mansion a few weeks prior. Meg seemed rather infatuated with her date that night - the younger DeChagny brother.

No doubt that was whom Adam wanted action taken upon.

She remained silent for a few moments. Should she do as Adam requested, she would not only be putting Raoul DeChagny in danger, but Megan Giry as well.

No matter. That girl had been as good as dead the moment Adam had laid his sadistic eyes upon her.

Martine had never considered herself a moral woman, but while she knew of Adam's unhealthy fascination – and subsequent destruction – of pretty things, she had refused to participate in his actions any more than offering him a drive now and then.

Raising corpses, placing hexes, and casting spells, however, were things Martine had gladly done.

"I could place a hex on the boy – night terrors, perhaps? A warning to keep away from the girl?" she asked.

"Something more permanent!" Adam insisted.

"I do not do _permanent_," she replied calmly.

"Should I hire someone who DOES then?" Adam warned as he leaned forward.

"Do as you wish, but I doubt you'll find another as skilled as myself. And to be honest - with the knowledge I have gathered since associating with you, who's to say I won't leave an anonymous tip with the police should you drop me from your payroll?" She threatened in response.

Adam narrowed his eyes. "I would kill you before you had a chance."

Martine chuckled at that. "You've tried twice now, and were unsuccessful both times."

The shock in Adam's green eyes only increased Martine's mirth.

"You think I didn't know about the times you sneaked into my bedroom and attempted to rid yourself of me?" she asked. "I long ago took precautions for my safety."

"I can't harm you?" he asked, a hint of disappointment creeping into his voice.

"No, you cannot harm me," she answered, then her voice grew serious.

"As I am aware with whom _I_ am associated with, do not forget with whom YOU are associated with. I am far more powerful then you give me credit for, Adam. I will not be gotten rid of so easily."

She leaned back in her chair and let out a sigh. "Now, I have work to attend to." She indicated the pile of papers to her left. "Do you want me to place a hex on the boy or not?"

* * *

**Populaire Dressing room**

"It followed us!" Jammes cried out as she ran into the dressing room shaking.

Christine sat in a chair and pulled her legwarmers over her tights, glancing in the mirror at Jammes' frightened reflection. "_What_ followed us?"

"The ghost!" Jammes gasped. "The ghost of Ravelle! I saw it! HERE!"

Christine tried to hide her smile. "Really? And where were you when you saw hi-IT…?"

Sorelli answered on Jammes behalf. "Making out with one of the male dancers behind a backdrop."

Jammes' mouth dropped open. "How did you know?"

Sorelli turned to her. "What - did you honestly think Viktor Petronova would keep his mouth shut? The whole company knows by now. Expect more of the male dancers to be paying extra special attention to you." She then smiled. "And hey, maybe the ghost will show up again. Maybe It's curious. Poor thing probably hasn't seen any action since last millennia."

"Or last _weekend_…" Meg snickered under her breath.

Christine glanced up from her chair, cheeks bright red. Meg leaned over to whisper in her friends' ear.

"I finished practicing around nine and came home to find you were… _busy_." She smirked, remembering how impressed she was by the sounds emanating from Christine's room that night.

Meg wouldn't hold such indiscretions against her roommate, however, as she herself would do the same thing – if Raoul DeChagny ever got up the nerve to make his intentions more than friendly.

With a small stab of disappointment, Meg wondered if the boy even realized how much she had been enjoying his company as of late.

* * *

**Elsewhere – that evening**

_The dearly departed Marie DeChagny stood before her youngest son, blonde hair shimmering with golden highlights, her form draped in jewelry and furs. "Protect your inheritance! She'll only try to steal it!" _

Beside her, Alain DeChagny took form, looking dapper in a black Armani suit. "You can't trust a woman like that! She only wants one thing from you!"

They stepped towards Raoul, their voices becoming one. "No son of ours will lower himself to the level of a lowly ballet student!"

"Keep to your class!" Marie insisted.

"Stay with your own!" Alain agreed.

"Mom… Dad?" Raoul reached out to touch them, only to watch his fingers disappear into emptiness.

His parents than began to change before his eyes – his mother's face became crisscrossed with scars, her chest caving right before his eyes. His father's head twisted unnaturally on his neck.

"Your fault we're dead. Your fault!" His mother's voice accused.

Raoul shook his head desperately. "It was a car accident! I… I didn't do anything!"

"You really are worthless. Why couldn't you have been more like your brother?" he heard his father's voice coming from the dead corpse. "What a mistake we made! You'll only ever be wanted for your money and your name. Otherwise, you're a poor suitor for any woman!"

Raoul shot up in bed, his breathing harsh and quick as he ran trembling fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. "Dammit!" he gasped.

He buried his head in his hands and massaged his temples.

Raoul suddenly felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He looked up to see Philip standing beside him. "What's wrong, Ray…?"

The younger DeChagny furrowed his brow – why was Philip in his room? He shook his head and thought it unimportant. "I had a weird dream."

"Want to share?" Philip asked.

_Share_? Raoul thought. When did Philip become so concerned about his dreams?

"It was … Mom and Dad. Telling me to stay with my own – then… dying. Right there. Telling me… I was worthless," Raoul found himself speaking, despite the urge not to.

"Listen, Ray - I know you want to have some fun with that Giry girl, but if you plan on more than that, then I agree with Mother and Father."

"What do you mean?" Raoul asked.

"Well, I don't expect Megan to want anything more than your money and name." Phil pointed out. "Do you truly think she enjoys your company?"

Philip sat on the bed beside Raoul. "Face it, little brother - she doesn't want _you_, she wants what's in your _wallet_."

_"Keep to your class!" _

"Stay with your own!"

"You'll only ever be wanted for your money and your name!"

"Why couldn't you have been more like your brother?"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" Raoul cried out, hands clutching at his ears as the voices grew louder in his head.

"Ray? Ray, what's wrong?"

Raoul looked up to see his brother aging and shriveling, turning to dust right before his eyes. "I'm not going to be here forever, Ray. Be grateful you're a DeChagny. You're _nothing _otherwise."

Raoul's eyes shot open – again. "What the hell?" He glanced around quickly. The door was still closed and there was no sign Philip had been anywhere in the room.

He quickly ran into the adjoining bathroom and retched.

* * *

**Beneath the Populaire - Saturday afternoon**

"Wow! This is amazing!" Christine gasped as Erik held her hand and led her through the darkness. He had come to pick her up for the day and had insisted on showing her something a little different.

The hidden tunnels beneath the Populaire were indeed different.

"How'd you figure all these out?" she asked.

"Shortly after I took up residence beneath Ravelle, I found an entrance off the back of the school that led to a retired subway tunnel. I didn't want to be seen by anyone, but I didn't want to be cooped up in the basement all day either, so I began to explore. I found that the main tunnel branched out to several smaller ones, which in turn led to various parts of the city," he explained.

"I came upon the Populaire quite by accident. I was simply walking around, making note of where I was going and how to get back, when I heard the music. I followed it and found myself beneath a grate under the stage." He offered a slight smile, "And then I found my way to Box Five and frightened the patrons with a few little vocal tricks."

"What did they say to the managers?" Christine asked.

"There was only one manager at the time – Mr. Lefevre, if I recall. The patrons claimed the box was haunted – for every time they sat there, they would hear a disembodied voice." Erik shrugged. "You will find that Box Five is difficult to sell to the superstitious."

Christine furrowed her brow, "But if it happened all those years ago-" she stopped and glanced up at him. "_Wait a sec_! You're still doing it, aren't you?" she accused.

"Oh look, we're here," Erik spoke quickly as he tapped a wall to the left, receiving a hollow echo in response. He pushed against a portion of wall and revealed a door, then took Christine's hand again – purposely ignoring her question – and led her through another darkened tunnel.

"There used to be dormitories back here," Erik continued as he indicated the narrow passageway and the various doors that led to small rooms. "Members of the company would live here for the extent of their tenure back in the late 1800s."

"This theatre's been around THAT long?" Christine asked in awe, realizing she was not going to get an answer to her earlier query.

Erik nodded. "I'd say it's just shy of 140 years old," he said. "People began to move out eventually though. They preferred to make more comfortable homes for themselves in the high-rises that were being built around the city."

"I don't blame them…" Christine frowned distastefully as she glanced into a dusty little room. "I'd hate living here too."

Erik shrugged. "Well, with the advent of automobiles and trains, they didn't _have _to. They were able to come and go as they pleased. I doubt these dormitories were used much after the forties or fifties. Now they're just storage areas."

He pushed opened another door and led Christine inside. A piano stood in the corner, recently polished, with a bench and a metal chair filling the otherwise bare room. "I thought we could have our lessons here, since it is close to your new apartment."

"Erik!" she cried out, throwing herself into his arms. He caught her easily. "Thank you so much!" She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his masked face down for an appreciative kiss.

It took all his willpower to pull away and place her back on the ground. "We should start," he said as he placed his backpack down and sat upon the bench. "I don't want you to be missed."

Christine laughed. "Um, we ARE allowed to spend time with our boyfriends when we don't have a class, you know." She slid onto the bench beside him. "But thank you for worrying about it."

Erik simply nodded. "Here…" he reached his bag and pulled out a large pile of paper.

"Yikes!" Christine's eyes went wide, then she turned to him worriedly. "I… I don't have to do this all TODAY, do I?"

He let out a soft chuckle. "No, of course not. But I want you to look it all over. It is copies of the scores for the Populaire's new season. Since you will be spending so much time here, I will teach you as if you are going to perform on stage."

She bit her lip nervously. "But… I'm NOT going to perform on stage."

"Do not be so sure of that," he said. Christine opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but he spoke before she could. "Warm up now, and we will begin."

Christine did as he asked. When she was ready, he began to play, indicating she sight read and join in to the best of her ability.

Having long since memorized the score, Erik closed his eyes and let the music soothe him, Christine's beautiful voice taking him elsewhere.

Erik remembered the secret he had admitted to her not more than a week ago, the memory of the masked boy's attack still fresh in his mind.

_There was a time I embraced death, Christine, _Erik thought as he continued to play._ Just like my rope embraced the necks of my quarry. You have no idea... NO idea what I was like before you. The thought of dying gave me cold comfort – to know my personal hell would end eventually. _

He glanced over at Christine, looking so very lovely in her red plaid schoolgirl skirt, matching knee-highs and baby-t.

Erik quickly turned back to his hands, watching as they danced over the keys. His fingers seemed to move on their own, guided by instinct.

_I accepted death, waited for it to come for me. I even played with my life on more than one occasion. I didn't care. There was really no reason for me to be in this world. Nothing for me to live for _

He watched Christine's bright blue eyes skim over the paper as she continued.

_But now… my sweet angel… now that I have **you**, I am afraid of losing a life that took over three decades to begin._

* * *

**Laramie Drive**

Sytri walked by Adam's room only to see the boy sitting on his bed, holding his beloved rope as he silently muttered to himself.

He looked up when he heard Sytri's footsteps. "I saw it, Father. In his eyes! I saw Erik's fear! He was scared of me! Your first-born son was scared of me. You must be so very disappointed in him, Father."

Sytri leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed. "Erik fears no man."

"But I SAW it!" Adam insisted. "When I tugged the rope around his neck, I SAW it!"

"What you saw was the fear of _death_. Do not mistake that for fear of YOU."

Adam shook his head vehemently. "No… no no… it was me! ME!"

"My son's will to live makes him far more dangerous than he was. He would _kill _you to prevent himself from entering eternal sleep. Do not think otherwise."

Adam frowned. "Father - why is it only _Erik _that you refer to as 'my son'? I am your son as well!"

Sytri stepped into the room and stood before him. "Very well. If I ever hear that you have attacked your _brother_ again, I will kill you… SON."

Adam's eyes went wide. "But you said… you said he betrayed you! That he… that he was ungrateful!"

"That has not changed," Sytri answered. "But if anyone is to end his life, it will be _me_. And right now, I would rather he remain breathing."

"But-"

The larger man suddenly reached down and grabbed Adam by the throat, preventing the boy from finishing his words as he yanked him from the bed and squeezed. "Erik is to remain untouched," Sytri hissed. "I TRUST that is clear to you!"

Adam's lower lip began to quiver, his eyes filling with tears. "You love him more than me!" he cried out. "Because he's the older one!"

Sytri narrowed his eyes. "I know nothing about _love_… but I do know Erik is far more useful to me than YOU will ever be! He is faster, stronger, and smarter. Do not even try to compete with him! You may have caught him off-guard once, but I guarantee he will NOT let you do so again!"

With great impatience, Sytri threw Adam across the room, sending the boy crashing into a nearby wall.

Adam doubled over on the ground, clutching at his head. "The… the pretty girl…" he gasped through the pain. "She… she made him weak! I know… I KNOW she did! He… he is NOT stronger than me! He… he ISN'T!"

Sytri let out a harsh laugh. "Whatever else that girl has done to him, she has not made him any less of a _killer_." His thoughts flashed back to several months ago – when Erik had almost killed _him _with his bare hands.

"Do not fall into a false sense of security." Sytri continued, shaking the memory away. "Try to attack Erik again, and you will be dead."

Ignoring the painful whimpers from the boy curled up on the ground, Sytri walked away, smirking coldly. _And perhaps I will finally be free from your incessant whining._

* * *

**Saturday Night – DeChagny Residence**

"Hey, Raoul!" Raoul heard Meg's hopeful voice on the other end of the line. "What are you up to tonight?"

"Um…" Raoul squeezed the handset of the phone, hesitant to reply. His dream was still fresh in his mind, and he had decided to think about what it represented. "Well, there are some papers Phil wants me to look over. Needs to be done tonight."

"Oh…" he could hear the disappointment in Meg's voice. "Well, I was just wondering because there's a midnight showing of 'North by Northwest'. I know you like Cary Grant. And, I mean, it's Hitchcock too, so that's a plus."

"Yeah…" Raoul felt his stomach drop. _This isn't fair to her! You know better then to be freaked out by a dream!_ "It's just too bad I have to do this stuff. I'm sorry, Meg. Just… really bad timing."

There was a moment of silence, then Meg's voice attempting to sound cheerful. "No problem. I'm sorry for disturbing you. I … I should have realized that you're probably really swamped. Um… if you want, there's another showing tomorrow."

"Right. Of course. I'll probably be tied up tomorrow too." Raoul winced at his own words. "Phil is working on a big deal at the moment."

"Busy guy," Meg replied. "Well, if you want a break from all that work, I could treat you to a Starbucks when Philip gives you a spare moment. You'll probably need a caffeine rush."

Meg's voice was light, but Raoul had the distinct impression she was forcing it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, recalling what she had just said. _I could treat you. _Meg was offering, which meant she DIDN'T expect him to pay for everything.

"I'll keep that in mind." Raoul answered. "Listen, I have to go, Meg. Sorry. Lots to do."

"Oh… right… sorry. Didn't mean to keep you," Meg answered shakily. "Good night Raoul."

"G'night, Meg," he said, then cradled the phone and let out a sigh.

His dream still nagged at the corners of his mind.

Raoul had had enough experience to know that money could make any girl like a guy, whether she liked him as a person or not.

In fact, he knew that a few of his past girlfriends had found great pleasure in expecting him to dole out the cash. It was the reason they were _past_ girlfriends.

The only one who had been different was Christine.

Raoul thought about that.

Perhaps Christine associated with like-minded people. Perhaps Meg was more interested in HIM than his money.

What if he was wrong, though? What if Meg was just like the others?

Raoul cursed his own indecisiveness.

Until he felt more comfortable, perhaps it would be better to avoid Megan Giry.

**END OF EPISODE 45**


	46. Episode 46: Dedication

**_A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir._**

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 46: Dedication

By: Elektra

**Populaire dance studio**

"Meg, step forward please."

Meg obeyed and moved to stand in the center of the floor.

"'Bluebird' variation, please. William, press play."

The familiar score pounded through the speakers, and Meg took a deep breath. She stood in B plus, her left leg bent behind her, her wrists crossed in front, her head tilted delicately to the right. Madame Giry taught this variation to her when she was a teenager, and for once Meg was grateful for her mother's strict adherence to traditional pieces.

She kept her _ballon _light, her feet absolutely stretched with each emboité, and her face set in a mask of ease and delight.

Meg finished to a round a soft clapping, even from Giselle. "Good. Michelle, I'd like for you to do the same." Meg hurried off the floor to stand next to Christine.

To Meg, Michelle's extension was slightly higher, but she lacked the buoyancy of Meg's interpretation. Meg's critical eye followed Michelle's every move, until she found herself clapping softly along with the rest of the class.

"Very good, girls." Giselle smiled proudly. "You're all dismissed."

When the class emptied out, Giselle called over Meg and Michelle before they could leave. "I would say you two are at the same level." She began. "It's a shame the other students don't seem to be following your lead." She looked directly at Christine, who was waiting for Meg just outside the doorway, then brought her gaze back to the two girls before her.

"Of course, you're not perfect yet," Giselle stressed. "But I would say you could both have careers as principals in an established company, provided you steer clear of injuries. It's only a matter of which one of you dedicates the most time and effort to it."

Meg and Michelle both smiled and curtsied to Ms. LeFleur, thanking her for her kind words.

Meg thought over her options as she changed back into her t-shirt and jeans. She wanted to be a dancer. It had been her dream since she was little.

She could return to school in the fall, but that idea no longer appealed to her.

It was then that Meg decided – no matter what the consequences – she would audition for the ballet corps at the Populaire and hopefully start her career.

* * *

**Air ducts**

Erik watched the class exit from below. Meg truly was skillful as far as ballet was concerned. His beloved, on the other hand…

He let out a sigh. He would support Christine in whatever she wished to do, but seeing her stumble on more than one occasion, even _he_ had to admit that perhaps she was just not cut out for ballet.

Christine had a fair amount of grace and could do what needed to be done. The only problem was, she took her time doing it.

Unfortunately, taking one's time was not an option on stage. She could not always remain one step behind the rest of the ballet corps, and while her ballet lessons had given her much needed skills – and a slender little figure - he knew the life of a ballet dancer was not for her.

Yet, his angel _would _be on stage. She would be the Populaire's star diva. And he would do whatever he had to do to make sure that happened.

* * *

**Outside the Populaire**

Adam watched the class taking place inside the dance studio. The other girl, Michelle, seemed to be competition for his little swan. They were both quick, agile, and graceful, and could do the combinations without hesitation.

Michelle would never outshine his swan, though. Never.

As Ms. LeFleur had said, success was a race between the two girls.

He was determined that his swan _would _win that race. And Adam would do whatever he had to do to make sure that happened.

* * *

**Meg and Christine's Apartment – Saturday morning**

Erik watched the woman beside him sleep. He studied the look upon her face – sweet and content. Had HE been the cause of such a look?

"Erik?" Christine spoke sleepily as her blue eyes fluttered open. "What's up?"

He ran long slender fingers down her cheek. "Nothing." He spoke softly. "But I think I will always be amazed by you."

"Why?" Christine asked.

He raised a hand to his exposed face, his mask lost on the floor among their discarded clothing. "Because you embraced what no one else could. Some _thing_ that may or may not even be human."

Christine frowned and pulled away from him, rolling over to face the wall and give him the graceful curve of her bare back.

"Christine?" Erik asked, brow furrowed at her sudden mood change. She didn't answer. Erik reached out and traced a finger gently down her spine. "What is wrong?" She remained silent.

Erik slid an arm around her waist, tugging her back. She struggled half-heartedly, but soon allowed herself to relax against his chest.

"Stop talking like that," she answered finally. "Stop calling yourself a _thing_!"

"I am only being _honest_."

Christine wiggled in his arms and turned around to meet his eyes. She cupped his face with her hands. "You're being _self-deprecating _, not _honest_."

She knew why he considered himself monstrous, but she could not put together what she knew of the Guild's Executioner with the man in whose arms she lay now. She could not comprehend that the son of a creature whose origins no one even knew was the same man with whom she had shared herself last night.

If Erik was anything outside of human, she preferred to think of him as the angel of music.

"I am not going to pretend I am _normal_, Christine."

"You don't get it!" Christine raised her voice as she pushed herself into a sitting position, not caring that the bed sheet covered absolutely nothing now. "You ARE normal. Normal, every day _Erik – _and everything 'normal Erik' includes doesn't make you any less of a person!"

Before Erik could respond, a scream erupted from outside the bedroom.

He immediately jumped out of bed, tugging on the leather trousers that had 'mysteriously' ended up on the floor the night before.

He ran out of Christine's room only to be faced with Little Meg Giry, who took one look at him… and proceeded to scream even louder before she finally turned away. "Your _mask_, Erik!"

Christine ran out in her robe, holding Erik's mask out to him. "Sorry, Meggy - we heard you scream and he got all instinctive."

"Yeah. I figured," Meg replied. "Didn't even know he was here."

Erik quickly grabbed the mask from Christine, covering his face immediately. "My apologies, Little Giry. I imagine that was not the most pleasant sight first thing in the morning."

Taking a deep calming breath, Meg finally turned back to him. "Sorry… it's just-" he held up a hand to silence her, needing no explanation. She had seen his face only once before, and had reacted the same way. He did not hold it against her.

Meg briefly wondered how many times Christine had seen Erik's face before she had grown used to … _that_.

"Right," Meg cleared her throat. "Um… guess I should tell you why I was screaming before."

"Yes, please do." Erik replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

Meg held out the box in her hands, revealing a dozen flowers of various types and colours. She was practically beaming with joy. "It just came to the door!" She giggled excitedly as she held out the card. "From my secret admirer!"

"Oh Meggy! Maybe they're from Raoul." Christine clapped her hands excitedly.

Meg nodded eagerly. "I was thinking that too! Maybe he's sorry for totally blowing me off this past week." She looked up at Erik. "Um… yeah… so that scream was a HAPPY scream. Well… until I saw _you_. Er… no offense."

Erik glanced over at Christine. "Funny - I've been told I'm _normal_. A normal, every day corpse." He shrugged. "Some women find that attractive."

Christine frowned. "I don't find _corpses_ attractive!"

"Really? Were you not trying to convince me otherwise?"

Meg looked back and forth between the two. "Um, guys? This is probably not the best time to-"

"That's NOT what I was referring too!" Christine stomped a little foot angrily, ignoring Meg's protests.

Meg tried to interject again, feeling rather uncomfortable to be witnessing a lover's quarrel. "Maybe you two should go back into the room and-"

"You know, maybe you should buy yourself a casket." Christine interrupted as she continued glaring at Erik. "I mean, if you're so convinced you're death incarnate, then I really shouldn't have let you anywhere near my bed!"

Erik stormed angrily towards Christine. "You _like _me in your bed! Or have you _forgotten_ the way you-" he stopped suddenly, remembering Meg was still in the room.

Swearing under his breath, Erik turned his scarred back on both of the girls. "Never mind! If you want me away, then I will stay away!" He headed back into Christine's bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

Meg seemed concerned. "Maybe you went too far."

Christine shook her head. "I've been wanting to give him a piece of my mind for a long time about that. We actually started this conversation before we came out here."

She sat on the couch with a sigh, running a hand through her golden curls. "I'm not blind, Meggy. I _know _what he looks like. I _know_ what he's capable-" she immediately swallowed her words.

Meg still didn't know about the executioner, and Christine did not plan on telling her.

"Despite that," Christine continued quickly. "He makes me feel _something_ I can't explain..." she shook her head, indicating she couldn't find the words. "Every time he looks at me, or touches me, it's there. He doesn't see it in himself, and I really wish he would!"

She massaged her temples. "He can be so sweet, and then… he gets like _that_." She indicated the closed bedroom door. "Sometimes worse."

Meg sat beside her friend and placed an arm around her shoulder. "You have a high maintenance boyfriend with lots of baggage. You'll probably never know half the shit he went through before he met you - and you know he had to have gone through _a lot _of shit." Meg pointed out. "You should go back to your room and _calm _him. In your own special way, of course." She winked.

Meg then stood up and went to the kitchenette, grabbing a tall glass to put the flowers in. "Actions speak louder than words, Chrissy. Go take action."

Christine pouted. "He's too private a person to do thatwith you here. You were practicing late last night … so... " she said no more. "We feel asleep before you came home."

Meg laughed as she arranged the flowers. "You two must have really been exerting yourselves then." She glanced back at Christine. "Tell him I'm going out with Raoul for the day – which I'm going to do as soon as I call him and thank him. Now shoo."

She waved Christine back to her bedroom and waited until the door was closed and she heard a muttering of voices – loudly at first, then slowly growing softer… until they were altogether silenced. Meg knew there was only one way Christine could have shut Erik up.

Meg smiled and sat down at the small kitchen table. She dialed the DeChagny residence and waited eagerly for Raoul to pick up after the maid put her on hold.

Meg strummed her fingers on the table, wondering why Raoul was taking so long to answer. He finally did – and sounded like he hadn't slept in a week.

"Raoul? You ok?" She asked worriedly.

"What is it, Meg?" he replied shakily.

Meg was taken aback. Raoul sounded downright nervous. "Well, I … I just wanted to thank you for the flowers."

"What flowers?" He sounded confused.

"The ones you sent to the apartment." Meg explained.

"I didn't send flowers, Meg."

Meg looked at the card, her hopes falling. "You didn't?"

"Why would I?"

Meg opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again. _Why would he, indeed? I really AM nothing to him, just like Sorelli said._

"Never mind. Sorry for the mix up. Go … go back to sleep, Raoul. You sound really tired."

"I am. Goodbye." The line quickly went dead, leaving Meg staring at the handset and trying her hardest not to cry.

Perhaps if she had been in a clearer state of mind, she would have thought to find out who HAD sent the flowers.

* * *

**Laramie Drive**

Sitting before his X-Box, Adam thought back to the look on Megan Giry's face when she had accepted his flowers at her door. He had been watching her from around the corner, waiting.

She smiled as if she had just received the greatest gift in the world, her green eyes wide with hope.

"Megan Megan Megan..." he muttered the name to himself like a mantra. "Magnificent Megan..." He turned to glance in the mirror, noting the lack of a mask upon his face.

_Father said he'd make it all better, and he kept his word... but Father also said I would still have to wear a mask at night. Bad things would happen if I didn't._

Adam ran his fingers over his face. Was this what a 'normal' man looked like?

Father truly had found him a wonderful surgeon. He would forever be in his debt.

Now, there was one last thing to take care of - his swan need not worry about her competition much longer.

* * *

**Sytri's Study**

"Tell me, Shay," Martine Robichaux began after informing Sytri of the latest assignment Adam had given her. "Adam's face was _always _normal, wasn't it?"

Sytri chuckled. "Of course it was. I was simply having some fun, that is all."

"Mind control then?" Martine asked.

Sytri nodded proudly. "Quite a job I did. Why, the boy even believes I found him a plastic surgeon to make him 'normal' again. He will forever OWE me."

"Impressive." Martine replied. "Is this murderous rampage _your _idea too?"

Sytri laughed. "Oh no, Ms. Robichaux. That was his alone. Sadistic boy. He would have followed that path whether or not I had made contact with him."

Martine raised an eyebrow. "And what about your son - your REAL son. Erik Garner."

He narrowed his eyes. "How do you know that I only have ONE real son?"

Martine laughed. "The same way I know your real name is not _Shay_. You are nothing even remotely close to human, despite your handsome exterior." She leaned forward. "But Erik now... he is not so handsome, is he?"

"Erik's face is 100 percent hideous," Sytri answered. "He truly DOES need that mask." He shrugged. "I suppose that was to be expected when I tried to mate with a human."

"No doubt," Martine answered. "Yet ERIK does not go around killing pretty girls on a regular basis."

Sytri frowned. "No. He does not. It is a bit of a disappointment, to be honest."

"Well, he has caused his fair share of death. That should make you somewhat proud." She smirked at Sytri's surprise. "Oh, I know all about the Guild's executioner. I've done my homework."

Sytri sighed. "Yes. It is a shame he chose to betray me. I will have to take my revenge on him for that."

Martine chuckled. "You talk of revenge. But you and I both know that is not going to happen." She leaned back against the wall smugly. "I hear something in your voice. Something I never thought I would hear from one of Hell's inhabitants."

He glared at her angrily. "And WHAT, exactly, do you think you hear, Ms. Robichaux?"

Her smile grew wider. "Fear, Sytri. Undeniable fear."

* * *

**Alley behind the Populaire – the next night**

Nadir looked at the female body propped up against the wall. The usual MO was there – strangulation, hack job on her hair, and the disfiguring of her face.

Erik had found the body upon one of his many visits to the Populaire, and had immediately called Nadir and informed the detective that he had recognized the girl as a student taking the summer workshop with Christine.

From what Erik had understood, this girl – Michelle Lamond – was one of the top two students in the workshop.

The _other_ top student was Meg Giry.

With that knowledge fresh in Nadir's mind, the sight before him was even more chilling – for above the girl's head was a dedication written in her own blood:

_For Megan._

**END OF EPISODE 46**


	47. Episode 47: Conflict

**_A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir. _**

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 47: Conflict 

By: Elektra 

**Meg and Christine's Apartment**

Meg sat on the couch - Christine on one side, her mother on the other - shaking as she tried to drink the hot cocoa Christine had made for her. 

Nadir, Giry, and Erik had just arrived to inform her of a rather unpleasant incident – a fellow ballet student, Meg's biggest competition for success, had been found murdered. _For Megan_ had been written in the girl's blood on the wall above her head. 

"I…" Meg began nervously. "I barely knew Michelle," she explained to Nadir, trying not to be distracted by Erik, who was pacing impatiently behind him. 

"Giselle – Ms. LeFleur – said that both of us could be principals in the future. That it was just a race to see who got there first. But…" She swallowed hard. 

"God… I never would have wanted _this_! I'd never even… even THOUGHT-" She broke into a sob, and Christine immediately put an arm around her shoulders. 

"It's ok. Take a moment." Nadir offered as he put his notebook on his lap. 

Meg nodded, and reached out to grab Madame Giry's hand. "Momma, what's going on?" Her voice was small and frightened. 

"We do not know, Megan." Giry replied. "As I told you, Erik had an altercation with someone two weeks ago - a man who was watching you in the studio." 

Erik, silent up until now, finally spoke. "I am quite certain he was the one killing these girls." 

Nadir leaned forward. "Normally, the Guild doesn't get involved in things like this," he explained. "But being that it is starting to affect those close to us, Leroux has asked us to look into it using whatever resources we have to secretly assist the police." 

Meg nodded. 

Nadir looked over to Giry. "If you are not opposed, Madame Giry, I would like Erik to stay here with the girls. For their own protection." 

Giry nodded her approval, then glanced at Erik. "I trust you will be on your guard?" she asked, indicating that she would not tolerate him spending all his time with Christine when her daughter's life could be in danger. 

"Yes, Antoinette. I will allow myself no distractions." He offered a quick glance to Christine, then turned back to Giry. "I will stay on the couch."

* * *

**Populaire Auditorium – the next day**

Meg and Christine watched the rehearsals taking place on the large stage before them. The managers, Firmin and André, had granted the girls permission to watch rehearsal. 

Truth be told, it was a favour for Giry, who had currently been offered a summer position as Ballet Mistress for the corps. There had been no class today, as Giselle was needed at the rehearsal as well, and Giry hadn't wanted Meg to stay in the apartment. This gave her a chance to keep a protective eye on her daughter. 

Jammes and Sorelli had joined Christine and Meg, neither knowing the real reason they had been granted such a privilege. 

"Yeesh… no wonder Carlotta teaches during the rest of the year," Meg muttered as she winced at Carlotta's aria. She looked over at Christine. "Thank goodness you had Erik to teach you PROPERLY." 

"No kidding." Christine agreed. She glanced briefly up to Box Five, sure he had to be lurking somewhere. But she saw no sign of him. 

Her attention was brought back to the stage as Carlotta's note when horribly sour. It was then that she saw the broken sandbag not more than two inches from her former vocal teacher. Carlotta's husband, Ulbado, was by her side in an instant. 

Christine quickly looked to the flies above the stage and could have sworn she saw a black shadow making its way across the catwalk. "Erik…" Christine frowned, disapproval clear in her voice. 

Meg suddenly jumped to her feet. "OHMIGAWD! It _him_! It's the OPERA GHOST!" she screamed out, causing Jammes to cry out and clutch Sorelli's arm beside her. 

With a laugh, Meg sat down again. "Now THAT was a great stress reliever." She smirked, then leaned in closer to Christine, her voice low. "Don't be too hard on Erik for shutting Carlotta up. I'm going to thank him, actually. Her singing was grating on my already raw nerves." 

Christine tried to hide the smile on her face. She secretly wanted to thank Erik for shutting the woman up too. 

"That's IT! I QUIT!" 

Meg and Christine's attention went back to the stage once again. Carlotta seemed to be having some kind of hissy fit. She was shaking her fists at the flies, at the Managers, and even at her husband – who had the good grace to look embarrassed at his wife's over the top reaction. 

"Darling… really… this is crazy! It was only an accident." Piangi tried to calm the irate woman down. 

"Crazy? I'm CRAZY now, Ulbaldo? Have you heard what the little ballet girls have been saying these last few weeks? This place is _haunted_! And now..." she put a dramatic hand to her chest. "Now, the ghost wants me dead! _Dead_, I tell you! And you stand here saying I'm crazy?" 

"My dearest darling…" Piangi took his wife's hand. "It was only a little accident. I know you're superstitious, my bella … but forget what those little girls say!" He glanced over at Meg accusingly. 

Meg glanced back at Christine and shrugged sheepishly. "I didn't mean for the woman to go ape-shit." 

"It's true!" Jammes jumped up, not hearing Meg's comment. "I've seen it too!" Jammes insisted. "His face… it's horrible! Like a giant flaming skull!" 

Christine raised an eyebrow. "Erik looked like _Ghost Rider_ when she saw him?" she muttered to Meg 

Meg chuckled in response. "Jammes was always a bit imaginative." 

Carlotta was still ranting. "I will NOT perform here! I WILL NOT!" 

Firmin and André seemed at a loss, the former stepping forward hesitantly. "But… you can't just walk out! We have no understudy!" Firmin beseeched Carlotta. 

"Get HER to do it!" Carlotta snapped, pointing at Christine. "You seemed to like her so much last time!" 

Christine blinked in response. "WHAT?" she sputtered. "No… oh… no no no!" 

A piece of paper suddenly fluttered down from the rafters, landing on Carlotta's rather large head. She grabbed it and read it, then shrieked and dropped the paper to the floor. 

Piangi quickly picked it up and read it aloud. "M. Firmin, M. André. Ms. Christine Daaé is quite capable of taking over Carlotta Gudicelli's roles. Please see that she is properly fitted for her costume as soon as possible. Your humble servant, the Opera Ghost." 

"Ha! Erik likes my nickname for him!" Meg smiled proudly at Christine, then spoke up so the others could hear. "Chrissy would do a GREAT job!" 

Christine looked at Meg, shaking her head desperately, blue eyes wide with terror. "But… but… the _workshop_, Meggy! I can't just-" 

Meg waved her hand dismisively. "You're better with the singing. Seriously. Go for it. This is your big chance!" 

Christine quickly buried her face in her hands with a groan. 

Erik was going to get a piece of her mind as soon as they returned home.

* * *

**Outside the Populaire dance studio – Later**

Adam watched his little swan practicing once again, frowning at the visitor she seemed to have sitting in the corner, blabbing away with his lovely dancer. 

This girl was his brother's lover. Why was she here? He had planned to make his presence known to Megan tonight. Now this twit would ruin it all. 

He would have to find a way to keep Christine from his swan without raising the ire of his older brother. 

Adam made his way to Martine's house to make his request known.

* * *

**Later that night**

Erik stared up at the ceiling as he lay on the pullout couch. He had not been able to sleep very well. His beloved angel had given him quite the chewing out when her and Meg had returned from their classes at the Populaire – but my… she was so very desirable when she was angry. 

No matter. He could not act upon his increased attraction in her heated state. He was quite sure he would deeply regret it. 

He replayed the conversation in his head: 

"Why did you do that?" Christine had demanded. "You've just painted this huge target on my butt!" 

_And what a lovely butt it is…_. "I did not expect Carlotta to walk out in such a huff." Erik spoke aloud. "But it seemed to work for the better, no? I HAVE been teaching you her role these last few weeks. Of course, your lessons are not complete yet but-" 

"Stop it!" Christine had interrupted. "I don't want to win a role ONLY because you scared off the star and started leaving freaky notes for the managers!" 

Erik had laughed at that. "André and Firmin are quite aware it was me, Christine. I did them a favour, actually. They were getting tired of Carlotta's outrageous demands. They HAD been trying to find a way out of their summer contract with her, but legalities prevented it. Better that she quit. They were more than happy to accept you as a suitable replacement. I spoke to them of it BEFORE Carlotta rushed off." 

"But I'm not _like _Carlotta! I can't sing her parts!" 

Erik had dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand. "Your voice will be a most welcomed change. Trust me on this, beloved. Now go to sleep. I must take my usual vigil on the couch." 

Christine had said no more, but made it quite obvious she wasn't happy when she headed into her room and slammed the door behind her. 

Erik now pushed himself off the pullout and stood up to stretch. Christine was angry with him, and he couldn't even spend the night regaining her favour. He needed to be at the ready, should circumstances call for it. 

He would never begrudge Little Giry her safety, but it was starting to have an effect on his relations with Christine – physical and otherwise. 

Had it really been over a week since he last spent a night in his angel's arms? 

Off to the left, Meg's door opened. The girl walked out in a pair of sweats and a tank top. "Hey…" she muttered sleepily as she headed into the kitchenette to fill and plug in the kettle. 

"Is something wrong?" Erik asked. 

She shook her head as she poured the hot water and fumbled around in the cupboards for some chamomile tea. "Couldn't sleep. Thought this might help." She dropped a teabag in her _Ballerinas do it en pointe_ mug, watching it steep silently. "I wish Raoul was here..." she muttered to herself. 

"DeChagny?" Erik asked, not quite sure he had heard right. 

Meg turned to Erik. "Believe it or not, I don't share your utter hatred of him. The complete opposite, in fact." She slumped against the counter and took a sip of her drink. "Never mind. Whatever chance I had is gone now." 

"Why?" Erik asked. 

Meg shrugged. "Damned if I know. He's cut off communication with me. Keeps saying that Philip is keeping him too busy with… well… whatever the hell Philip does for a living." She pouted. "I really could use Raoul's company right now. He's good at cheering me up - I appreciate that in a guy." 

Erik regarded her carefully, and grunted before returning to the couch. "Go to sleep, Little Giry." 

Meg shook her head stubbornly. "Can't sleep. Still freaked out over my psycho stalker." 

"Do you have a song that calms you? You could listen to it on repeat. It might help." Erik suggested. 

Meg nodded. "'Over the Rainbow'. But my CDs are in one of the boxes I was too lazy to unpack. Haven't had a chance to listen to CDs since I got here anyway." She let out a soft sigh. "I'll just go lie down and stare at the ceiling - and try not to puke." 

Saying nothing more, she headed into her room, keeping the door opened a crack. 

Erik frowned when, after several minutes, he continued to hear the constant squeak of bedsprings, indicating Meg was have a great deal of trouble resting. 

Perhaps there was another way to calm her…

* * *

**Meg's Bedroom**

Meg tossed and turned, desperately trying to sleep. The troubling thoughts in her head would not go away. 

Someone had killed a classmate, and dedicated it to her. 

"Oh god… oh god oh god…" she muttered to herself, feeling nauseous as her body began to shake. "Calm down, Meg… calm down," she chanted softly, trying to steady her breathing. "You'll be ok… he won't get near you. The guild won't let him… oh god…" 

She curled up in the fetal position, hugging herself tightly. "Have to calm down… have to… have to…" 

_Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high…   
There's a land that I've heard of, once in a lullaby… _

Meg gasped as she looked to the door, hearing a heavenly operatic tenor singing ever so gently. 

She blinked. "I'm going crazy…." She turned on her side to stare at the wall. 

_Somewhere over the rainbow, Skies are blue…   
And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true…_

The voice was right beside her now. And as out-of-place as it sounded, she could not deny it was incredibly soothing. 

If she had still been staring at the door, she would have seen a masked face staring through the small opening, pale lips moving effortlessly as the ethereal disembodied voice moved near her ear. 

_Some day I'll wish upon a star, and wake up where the clouds are far behind me…  
Where troubles melt like lemon drops, way above the chimney tops…  
That's where you'll find me… _

Meg felt her eyelids grow heavy, almost as if an angel himself was singing to her. 

_Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly   
Birds fly over the rainbow, why then, oh why can't I?_

She was fast asleep before the song ended.

* * *

**DeChagny Residence – Raoul's Bedroom (2 hours later)**

At first, Raoul thought the white face hovering above him was another dream from Hell. He had been having far too many of those lately. 

"You are a wretched recreant boy." A voice hissed as strong slender fingers grabbed at Raoul's tank top and pulled him into a sitting position. "Leaving Little Giry pining for you while you make up pathetic excuses to avoid her!" 

Raoul shut his eyes tightly. "Go away… go away… a dream... only a dream…" 

"THIS is not a dream, DeChagny!" 

Raoul opened his eyes again, the vision growing clearer. The white face was actually a mask, with two golden orbs of fire where eyes should be. 

"Get out of bed!" the mask demanded. "You are coming with ME!" 

Raoul had heard that voice before… and it always seemed to sound perpetually pissed off. 

It took a few moments before his mind put two and two together. "Erik!" he gasped as he now had a better view of the shadowy figure crouched in front of him. 

"Do you know any other masked men who are skillful enough to break into a highly-secured mansion?" Erik snapped as he let go of Raoul. "Get dressed. Grab yourself some toiletries and a few changes of clothing. We are leaving." 

Raoul let out a harsh laugh. "You really ARE crazy! I'm not going _anywhere_ with you!" 

Erik smirked coldly. "You need not be conscious for me to take you where you need to be." 

Raoul frowned. "And where, exactly, do I need to be?" 

"You need to be holding Little Giry's hand. The girl is scared out of her mind!" 

Raoul refused to admit how intimidating the larger man looked at the moment. "Why is she so scared? Did she have the misfortune of seeing your face?" 

Erik scowled beneath the mask. "You fancy yourself a comedian?" 

"I'm not going!" Raoul answered. "I can't see her! I CAN'T!" he stressed. He looked away from the man before him, muttering quietly. "Money. They all want money. Or my name… no one cares. Just my name. Just my money. Want to be a DeChagny!" 

Erik studied the boy as he rambled, noticing that he looked as if he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in a while and was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. 

"DeChagny…" Erik attempted to speak, but Raoul would not be silenced. 

"Should have locked the money away! Should have hidden MYSELF away. Like you! I should have stayed in some basement." Raoul was shaking now. "They don't want _me_. They never want _me_. Always something else. Something tangible. Money. Power. Pretty things. Nice parties. Mom and Dad told me! They TOLD me Meg just wanted my name… she… she just wanted my name. She doesn't like me. She doesn't care about me. She's just like the others. Just like-" 

Raoul's rant was interrupted by the hardness of Erik's fist, leaving the boy flat on the floor, his jaw throbbing. He looked up at the man hovering over him. 

Erik's eyes were practically glowing, his patience and temper gone. 

Grabbing Raoul's top again, he yanked the boy up, filling DeChagny's hazy vision with his exposed visage as he tore off his mask. "Do not _bitch_ to me about your poor privileged pretty-boy existence!" he hissed. "And do not INSULT Little Giry! Especially when the girl's _life_ is in danger!" 

Raoul blinked quickly, the pain in his jaw and the hideous close-up of Erik's face snapping him out of whatever confusion he had been in. He quickly looked away from the unpleasant sight before him. "Meg's life is in danger?" 

"Yes." Erik replied. Raoul could feel the man's eyes practically burning him. "She has gained an unwanted admirer who likes to dedicate his _victims_ to her." 

Raoul paled, still making a great effort not to look at the man before him. "You're serious, aren't you?" He need not have asked. "Shit… Meg…" 

"I believe he has been watching her for a while now. During her nighttime practices." Erik explained as he let go of Raoul and slipped his mask back on. 

"Oh god…" Raoul whispered. "I never should have let her practice alone! I meant to meet her every night, but…." He let the sentence trail. 

"But _what_?" Erik asked, narrowing his eyes. "Why have you been avoiding the girl?" 

Raoul shook his head. "Dreams. Nightmares. Told me to stay away. Started bringing up doubts, and questions, and-" He stopped, feeling like a complete villain. 

"THAT is the reason?" Erik asked. "You have been running from Little Giry because you've been having bad dreams? You went on an insane rant minutes ago because of _bad dreams_?" Erik's voice was filled with disdain. 

Raoul glared back at him, a frown on his handsome face. "You don't need to be an _asshole_! You have NO idea how real these dreams were! My dead parents… they kept _haunting_ me! Telling me-" 

"Telling you to stay away from Little Giry!" Erik finished for the boy, then let out a derisive laugh, further causing Raoul to question why Christine was attracted to such a cold-hearted bastard. "Really, DeChagny… I cannot imagine what would happen if you ever had to bear witness to MY nightmares!"

* * *

**Meg and Christine's apartment**

Christine walked out of her bedroom to see Nadir sitting on the couch Erik usually inhabited. 

"Mr. Khan?" she began. "Didn't expect to see you here." 

"Ah, yes… Erik had some temporary business to tend to," he explained. "He should be back soon." 

"Crazy! You're crazy!" A voice shouted behind Erik as the hunter burst through the door, a scowl on his masked face. "Were you trying to KILL us?" 

"Stop whining, DeChagny!" Erik snapped in response. 

"I _hate_ bikers." Raoul muttered as he shut the door behind him. 

"I am NOT a _biker_." Erik replied. "I simply find it a convenient form of transportation." 

"Great! Wonderful! The NEXT time you feel like riding your bike through a bunch of trees, LET ME OFF FIRST!" Raoul answered. 

"And what makes you think you will ever be ON it again!" Erik growled in response. "It was a SHORTCUT, DeChagny! Else we would have another twenty minutes ride! And personally, I could not stand you _embracing_ me for much longer!" 

"I was not EMBRACING you!" Raoul protested. 

"HOLDING me, then?" Erik asked. 

"What's all the noise?" Meg muttered as she came out of her room, silencing Raoul's rebuttal. She suddenly froze, eyes going wide when she saw the handsome blond man only a few feet away. "Raoul?" She quickly looked at herself, let out an embarrassed squeal, and ran back into her room. 

"Well," Nadir finally spoke up. "She seems rather happy to see you." He smirked, then glanced over to see Christine had disappeared into her room as well. "Ah, women." He sighed. 

Raoul went over to Meg's door and knocked softly, ignoring his argument with Erik for the moment. "Meg?" His voice was gentle. "I heard what happened. Are… are you ok?" 

"Yeah… I'll be right out," she replied from the other side, then her voice grew quiet. "Raoul?" 

"Yes, Meg?" 

She was silent a moment, then spoke again, the emotion clear in her tone. "I … I'm really glad you're here." 

**END OF EPISODE 47**


	48. Episode 48: Dreams and Nightmares

**_A/N: An extra-specialthanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir . _**

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 48: Dreams and Nightmares

By: Elektra

Alone.

Christine felt completely, utterly alone.

Before her had stood her mother, her father, her best friend, and her beloved.

One by one they had faded away.

"Mom… Dad? Meggy? Erik? Come back! Please… please come back! Don't leave me alone…" she cried out.

_They don't want to be around you anymore… _a voice spoke. _Your Mother is gone. Your father followed her. And now, you hold on to the only two left in your life. _

Meg doesn't want some needy orphan clinging to her. She tires of you. She wants you to leave her alone. She has plans that don't include you. You're a hindrance! A bother!

Christine shook her head. "No. She's my best friend. She… she wouldn't think that! We… we're like sisters!"

_Sisters do not cling. She is planning for her future and you are getting in the way. She wants to be a ballerina, and you are preventing her learning. Leave her alone. _

Leave her alone.

Leave her…

… alone

* * *

Erik didn't have to open his eyes to know someone was walking around behind him. A certain someone he knew very well. He did not acknowledge Christine, though. He could not afford distractions. 

In fact he was so adamant about it, he was sure his beloved had forgotten what he looked like beneath the mask. It had been three weeks since they had spent any time alone.

Erik's eyes remained closed as he felt the sheet lift up and the pullout bed depress, followed by Christine sliding in silently behind him, carefully moving her way around Isis and her kitten, Kuroneko, the other two felines sleeping elsewhere in the apartment.

Erik felt Christine's arm slip around his waist, her warmth pressing against his scarred back. She let out a quiet sigh as she relaxed against him.

"Christine?"

"Had a bad dream…" she answered, her faced pressed against his skin. "People kept disappearing on me. My mom and dad." She was silent for a moment, her voice quiet. "Meg … and then… _you_."

The last word was said with such deep sadness. "I am not going anywhere, Christine."

She snuggled closer. "Someone kept telling me that they wanted to get away from me. Especially Meg." Her voice sounded lost and childlike. "And maybe she IS getting annoyed. I… I have no mom _or_ dad… so maybe… maybe I _am_ too clingy."

"I am sure Little Giry does not mind your constant presence," Erik answered. "And I am rather fond of it myself."

The arm around his waist grew tighter. "Sing me to sleep?" she asked.

Without hesitation, Erik did so.

* * *

**Martin Ave. and Nurien Dr. (later that night)**

Adam froze when he saw the girl walking down the street before him. Strawberry blond hair, petite build, and gentle grace.

"Megan?" he gasped, then shouted aloud, "MEGAN!"

The girl looked around, confused as to who was calling her. Adam quickly caught up to her and grabbed her arm. "It was me!" he started desperately. "I sent the flowers!"

"What flowers? Sorry, who are you?"

"My name… is Adam. I've been watching you for so long, sweet Megan…" he continued.

"Sorry, my name is not Megan. You have the wrong person."

He shook his head. "I love you, Megan…" he began, tightening his grip on the arm. "Do you love me too? I gave you flowers! And… I've seen you dancing. Oh, you dance so nice. And I know you were dancing for me. I KNOW it. I saw it in your eyes."

The girl stumbled back as Adam's comments grew more heated. "I'm not this MEGAN, and I don't dance! Let go of me!"

"Oh Megan… tell me you love me… please?"

"LET GO OF ME!"

Adam grew angry. "Is it HIM?" he accused. "That pretty rich boy?" He grabbed the girl's shoulders and shook her. "He doesn't love you! He'll cheat on you! Men like him always do!"

The girl screamed. Loud. Hysterical. She begged for help, but there was no one to help.

"STOP IT!" Adam cried out. "Stop SCREAMING! I only want to love you!"

The lasso was around her neck in an instant. She choked and struggled, so Adam forced her into the nearest alley lest anyone disturb them. Her knees buckled, and he took the opportunity to force her to the ground.

He loosed the rope a little and her eyes closed as she wheezed in a shallow breath.

"I know you love me," he murmured, withdrawing a knife. "I want to see how much you love me." Covering her mouth roughly with his left hand, he cut off her shirt. Loss of oxygen made her docile, but Adam knew that she was simply compliant because of her desire.

He plunged the knife into her stomach as she tried to scream. "Oh, look how beautiful you are! I knew it… I just knew it!" Adam pulled his gloves off and put his finger into the wound. "I've wanted so much to be near to you, to feel you this way."

He reluctantly removed his hand and pulled the rope away from her throat to slice open her jugular.

"I can see your heartbeat," he said, mesmerized by the rhythmic red spurts. "I can see your love; I know your heart is mine."

She shook and he tried to take her in his arms to comfort her in her passionate response. "I have you now; I'll never let you go, I swear," he whispered as he rocked her.

After a time, he released her and stood.

Breathless, Adam looked down at the girl laying motionless on the ground in her own blood. He coiled up his rope and tucked it back into his cloak.

He then noticed something he had not noticed before.

The dead girl was not Megan Giry.

* * *

**Meg's Room**

Meg glanced over to the form on the floor of her bedroom. Raoul had taken to staying in the apartment and sleeping on an air mattress.

_He's so cute when he sleeps…_ she thought. _Maybe I could offer to share my bed next time._ She would have giggled at the thought if not for the other thought that came to her shortly after.

_He agreed to stay here because he was worried about me. He wanted me to be safe. _She flopped onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. _This is more then just a crush. I'm really falling for him. Dammit._

Raoul had still not made an outward sign that he saw her as anything more than a friend, but she had hope.

The blonde man suddenly let out a startled cry and Meg turned to see him tossing fitfully. She wondered what he was dreaming of.

"She's not… she's not…" he muttered. "Not like them. She likes me. I'm her friend…"

"Hey…" Meg called aloud, brow furrowed at his odd behaviour. "You ok?"

He didn't wake up, instead continuing to talk incoherently. She could make out words here and there. Something about being a DeChagny, about people caring only for his money.

"Is _that_ what's has you so worried? Did Philip say something?" Meg asked as she slid out of her bed and knelt beside him. "You're a good guy, Raoul. You could be piss-poor and I'd still care about you." She let out a soft sigh and sat down beside his mattress, glancing towards the wall.

"I'll probably never have the guts to tell you this while you're awake," Meg continued. "But I like you. I mean, I _really _like you. I'd love it if it was mutual, but hey, I get that your bro would rather you date some rich heiress."

Meg let out a soft laugh. "I'm SO far from one, it's not even funny. After my dad died, Momma had the guts to pick up the pieces and make a life for us."

She took a deep breath. "But it's been a good life, no complaints. Momma taught me to be independent and strong and I love her for that that. I've got great friends, and I'm pursuing my dreams. I don't need to be one of _those_ girls."

She leaned back on her elbows. "I mean, what's the point of being someone like Paris Hilton if you're unhappy? Well… not that I'm saying Paris is unhappy since I don't actually _know_ her, but-"

"Meg?"

Meg froze as she slowly turned her head to meet Raoul's eyes. "Um… sorry… I… didn't mean to wake you with my mindless chatter." She paused for a moment, then swallowed nervously. "Exactly _how much_ of my mindless chatter did you hear?"

He raised a perfect eyebrow. "From 'I'll probably never have the guts to tell you this while you're awake'."

Meg closed her eyes, feeling a headache coming on. "Shit…"

"It's ok," Raoul replied. "At least you're honest." He glanced away. "It's more than I've been. I should tell you why I've been avoiding you – and why I might suddenly snap at any moment."

"What do you-"

"Dreams," he said. "I know it seems like a stupid thing, but these are hardcore night terrors I'm having. I can't even sleep a full night through without having one. Erik snapped me out of it long enough to get my ass here that night, but…"

Raoul shook his head. "That doesn't mean it's over. I keep having them. Then I wake up and see you sleeping in your bed, and I can calm myself a bit." He massaged his temples. "It doesn't help that my brother is on my case now too. He doesn't like me staying here."

Meg smirked. "What, with us lower class?"

"Oh, it was all well and good when he thought we were dating and you could help him out with his investors. But now..." Raoul shrugged. "Now he'd rather see me hanging out with some of his associates' daughters. Go figure."

He looked back at Meg. "And honestly, I've met some of those girls. I'd rather not meet more."

"You weren't impressed, huh?" Meg asked.

He let out a harsh laugh. "That's an understatement. They know exactly what to order at an expensive restaurant, how to act, and the best clothes to wear to impress their peers… but they're boring and self-serving. At least I can have a conversation with you and get your thoughts on things."

"So I'm blunt and opinionated?" Meg winked.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and met her eyes. "Yes, you are. And I like that."

* * *

**Laramie Drive – Two hours later**

Martine watched Adam carefully as he made his way into the bathroom, his clothing covered in blood. She shook her head.

Not that it mattered to her, but he really was becoming sloppy.

A few weeks ago, he had named the object of his affection in a bloody dedication, and now... now he had attacked a girl for bearing a similar appearance to Megan Giry and refusing his advances when he confronted her.

While Martine had not actually been WITH him at the time, she saw him - as she _saw_ all those she associated herself with - killing the girl far more brutally than he had killed the others.

"Your 'fake' son is becoming a problem, Sytri," Martine said as she sensed the creature's presence coming down the hall behind her. "He has gotten reckless."

"Adam knows how to clean up after himself." Sytri answered.

Martine shook her head. "Not this time." she answered. "The police will find a few more bits of evidence. Instead of using his rope immediately, he grabbed the girl and allowed her the opportunity to fight back. His fingerprints will be found upon her person."

She glanced over at Sytri. "And I have a feeling that his prints will not be unknown to the police."

Sytri leaned wearily against the wall. "From what I understand, he has had... problems... since he was a child." He then offered a cold smirk. "Not unlike my REAL son."

"Your REAL son did not kill an innocent girl to satiate his sexual needs."

"Adam did not _force_ himself upon the girl, did he?"

"No, but would you care if he HAD?"

Sytri shrugged. "Only that it would leave DNA evidence."

"That has already been left. Since he did not kill her cleanly, she managed to scratch him up in self-defense. His skin will be found beneath her nails."

Martine studied the creature before her - the thing that pretended to be a man. "He will find out you are NOT his father."

He waved away her concern. "That no longer matters to me. He is useless. I HAD hoped he would assist me in my attempts at organized chaos..." He shrugged. "but he is far too unstable for that now."

Martine raised an eyebrow at him. "THAT is all you wanted?" she asked. "Then you are no more than a troublesome child wanting to cause a ruckus. How disappointing."

Sytri glared at her, golden eyes glowing ever so slightly. "What is THAT supposed to mean?"

"Only that with your power, you could do so much more."

He studied Martine closely. "I am listening."

She smiled in response. "First, may I suggest you cut your losses?"

Sytri thought about this for a moment, then came up with a solution. "I would rather leave that up to Erik. He is trying far too hard to be a 'good boy' for his lover and it sickens me. Let him take the boy's life. He needs a good reminder of _what_ he is."

* * *

**The next morning**

Raoul walked out of the apartment building and turned on his cell phone. "Hello, it's Raoul DeChagny," he began. "I want someone at 1321 TownCircle Drive to guard the grounds 24/7. I have reason to believe my friends may be in danger."

"Sir, we are DeChagny personal security. We are not to be hired out to your friends." came the answer.

Raoul frowned. "I will be staying here as well. I expect you to do your job and protect me, as well as those I am associating with. Do you have a problem with that? "

"No sir, Mr. DeChagny," came the answer on the other line.

"Good. Then I want your people here as soon as possible."

"Yessir, Mr. DeChagny."

Raoul disconnected the cell phone and slid it in his pocket. He took a deep breath and took a walk around the apartment.

As he continued to walk, he felt a shiver down his spine. It felt almost as if someone was here, watching him. He spun around, looked left and right, but saw no one. He continued walking until he reached the front door again.

He quickly went back inside to gather Meg. He was sure she'd benefit from a nice day out.

* * *

**Outside 1321 TownCircle Dr.**

Adam ignored the feel of his nails digging into his skin as he watched the DeChagny boy walk around the apartment building and back in. He emerged a few moments later with Meg and led her to his BMW.

Following shortly after was his older brother and his brother's lover, who climbed on his bike as the two kept a short distance behind DeChagny's car.

He smiled as he realized that now he could leave his special present in Meg's room. The one he had worked so very hard to get for her.

He was certain she would appreciate it.

* * *

**Meg and Christine's Apartment – that evening**

Christine, Meg, Erik and Raoul returned to the apartment together after spending an entertaining day at the movies.

Though Raoul and Erik were, at least being civil, the sniping and arguing did not cease save for the length of the movie. It was about foolish things, and it was driving the girls crazy.

"They're like brothers or something," Meg spoke loud enough for the two to hear. "Sibling rivalry and all that." She winked at Christine.

"DeChagny will NEVER be my brother!" Erik snapped impatiently. "And you would do well not to annoy me with such talk again!"

Meg rolled her eyes and headed into her room. Seconds later, a screamed ripped from her throat.

The other three quickly ran in to see what had happened, only to find an opened gift box on Meg's bed.

Erik swore and quickly placed a hand over Christine's eyes, turning her away from the object that lay in a pool of thick red liquid upon Meg's bed.

Meg bolted out the door, followed by a concerned Raoul as she retched in the bathroom.

The card that accompanied her gift fluttered to the floor.

_From your secret admirer._

**END OF EPISODE 48**


	49. Episode 49: Need

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir.**_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 49: Need

By: Elektra

**Nadir Khan's Apartment **

"Was that Erik?" Madeline asked as Nadir cradled the phone.

"Yes. With some rather disturbing news."

Madeline grew concerned. "Is everything ok?" she asked.

"I suppose... but the Giry girl received a rather unfortunate _gift_ from her secret admirer," Nadir explained before Madeline could ask. "She returned home to find that someone had trespassed into her room, and a human heart left for her." He shuddered at the thought. "Apparently, that is a new way to win a lady's favour."

"Oh, that poor girl!" Madeline replied. "I don't know what would be more disturbing - the present that was left, or the fact he got in there in the first place."

* * *

**Christine and Meg's apartment**

"Grab your stuff," Raoul insisted once Erik finished his phone call. "We're going to MY place. If that freak can get in here, _we're_ getting out!"

He grasped Meg's hand, squeezing gently. "Are you ok?" She released a shaky breath and nodded, then pressed her face against his shoulder. He absently slid an arm around her.

"Pack quickly. If you forget something, I will come back - alone - to get it for you," Erik added.

"But... the workshop... we... we can't-" Christine shook her head, still unnerved from the events of ten minutes ago.

"DeChagny and I will get you there and back every day," Erik offered. The two men glanced at each other, a silent understanding between them.

Unfortunately, it was quickly replaced with the usual loathing when Raoul realized Erik had no intention of leaving Christine unaccompanied at the DeChagny Mansion.

Raoul sighed quietly. It would be hard enough to talk Philip into letting the girls stay. The fact that Erik would be staying as well would make it near impossible.

* * *

**Outside 1321 TownCircle Dr. (45 minutes later)**

Adam watched with confusion as Raoul and Meg, suitcase in hand, left the building.

_She looks as if she's going away,_ Adam thought with a frown. He had been hoping to see his swan's reaction to his present, expecting her to realize the depth of his feelings - and yet, she did not look happy.

Adam had not recalled overhearing any talk of a vacation. Did she not still have her classes at the Populaire?

And why, of all things, was she with THAT man? What did Adam have to do to get the girl to notice him? If not DeChagny, then his brother's lover was at her side. Because of that, he had not been able to approach her in person, to tell her he was her secret admirer.

Adam grew angry. If the dreams would not keep these people away from his swan, perhaps he would have to rid the girl of them himself.

* * *

**DeChagny Residence – An hour later**

"You ladies will be staying in the guest wing," Raoul began as he led Christine and Meg on a tour of the DeChagny Mansion. He wanted the two comfortable enough to walk around without feeling out of place.

Raoul knew Erik was wandering somewhere, on his _own_ private tour, and had given up trying to keep track of him. It was a little unnerving to know that Erik could not only sneak into the mansion undetected, but could lurk in the shadows leaving no one the wiser.

"This place is huge!" Christine replied. "I've been here so many times, but I've still never seen the whole thing."

"I hope you girls make yourselves cozy. This part of the building hasn't been used in… well… a long time." Raoul offered a sheepish smile. "So if there's anything you need that's not here, just ask." He glanced over at Meg, "And just so you know, I've increased security outside the house. No one should be able to get in without being noticed."

Meg hugged herself. "Erik did."

Raoul frowned. "Erik is… Erik. He doesn't count. And besides, if anyone DOES get in, he'll know."

"You have such faith in me, DeChagny. I'm touched," a voice spoke from a darkened corner of the hall. Erik slid out of the shadows and offered a mock bow.

Raoul crossed his arms, unimpressed. "I wasn't complementing you. I just figured you had some kind of '_freak_' radar. Birds of a feather and all."

Erik moved behind Christine and put his hands on her shoulders, stage whispering into her ear. "He is so very shy about his feelings, isn't he?"

He then turned to Meg, growing serious. "The boy does have a point, though, Little Giry. Should someone get past the men out front, I will stop them from getting to _you_."

Meg nodded, knowing Erik would keep that promise.

* * *

**Opera Populaire – the next day**

Erik brought his bike to a stop and turned around in his seat to face Christine. "I will be around, as usual, but you will not likely see me."

"Yeah… that's been happening a lot." Christine answered with a sad smile. "But as long as Meg is safe, it's all good."

He held a hand out to her. "Come now. I'll see you in, then I will disappear. No doubt DeChagny has already brought Little Giry." He slid off the bike and assisted Christine off before leading her inside.

Erik would not let her hand go until they arrived at the dance studio. Though he knew

Christine was not the one in danger, he did not want to allow her out of his sight more than he had to. Christine's nightmares were evidence that Meg's admirer was not above going after her friends.

"Class is cancelled. Our accompanist is sick today," Giselle said as Christine walked through the door.

Christine glanced around to see the other students gathering their bags. She turned to Erik and smirked. "Erik is an accompanist."

Before Erik could protest, Christine leaned towards him and lowered her voice. "It'll be easier for you to keep an eye on us this way." She waved to Meg, who came towards them.

Giselle studied Erik - or more specifically, his mask - suspiciously. "And who are _you_?"

"My bodyguard," Meg said quickly, knowing Giselle had been appraised of the danger the girl faced. "And one hell of a pianist. You won't be disappointed, ma'am."

Giselle was not quite convinced, but shrugged anyway. "Go ahead then. Might as well get SOMETHING done today."

"No!" Sorelli protested from a few feet away. "No no NO! He'll play well for his favourites, but he'll screw the rest of us over!"

Erik glanced at her unaffected. "Perhaps you just have trouble keeping up. If I recall correctly, only you and your friend, Jammes, had issue with me at the ICDF Convention."

Giselle looked over at him. "That was _you_ with the Ravelle students then?" she asked. "I heard about an accompanist named Erik. All good things, of course," she clarified.

"I'd been hoping to see you for myself, but time didn't permit." She then smiled. "Now that you're here, though, I'd love to hear what they were raving about." She gestured towards the piano. "Would you mind?"

He nodded politely. "Not at all." He shrugged off his duster and placed it neatly on a chair, then slid onto the piano bench.

Giselle subtly ran her eyes over him as she moved to stand by the piano. How could she have missed the description her colleagues had given her? Tall and mysterious, with hands that were far too sensual for their own good. She watched almost hypnotized as his long slender fingers danced over the keys.

As the class continued, Giselle found Erik lived up to all that had been said about him and thought of making him the permanent replacement for the usual accompanist.

She wondered briefly how old the man was. Perhaps only a few years more than her own 28. An excellent musical talent, and a bodyguard in his spare time? Giselle found that incredibly fascinating.

She glanced back over her class and frowned as she found Christine smiling at the man. Surely the uncoordinated girl didn't have a crush on Meg Giry's bodyguard?

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. With an impatient sigh, the ballet mistress went to the door and opened it to reveal Firmin, who seemed to be shifting nervously from one foot to the next.

"Yes, sir?" Giselle asked.

"I was wondering if Miss Christine Daaé was here?"

"Yes, she is," Giselle started. "But we're in the middle of a class."

"Forgive me," Firmin replied. "But André and myself are in desperate need of her at the moment." He glanced around the room, nodded politely to Erik, then saw Christine off in the corner stretching. "Miss Daaé?" he said as he stepped inside, motioning for her to come over.

"Stop!" Giselle commanded Firmin. "There are NO street shoes on the marley, sir!"

Firmin looked at Giselle, and quickly apologized, removing his shoes at the door and motioning Christine over to the side so as not to disturb the rest of the class.

"Yes sir?" Christine began hesitantly.

Firmin smiled down at her. "We were told you were familiar with the role Carlotta was performing, yes?"

Christine nodded. "Y-yes, sir. I know the part."

"Good good!" Firmin seemed greatly relieved. "Come with me." He started to walk out but noticed Christine wasn't following.

"I… I'm sorry, sir. What is it you need?"

"Oh, of course!" Firmin realized. "Well, Miss Daaé, it seems we are in quite a bind. Carlotta has refused to return. André and I were thinking that perhaps YOU may temporary fill the role until we find someone permanent."

Christine was speechless for a moment. "But… I… I'm not _nearly_ as good as-"

"You have a beautiful voice, and an excellent stage presence," Erik spoke up from behind the piano. He had been listening intently to the conversation. "They would be in your debt."

Christine glanced at him, then towards Giselle, who simply shrugged arrogantly. Meg, on the other hand, was smiling and shooing her towards the door silently from the other side of the room.

Christine swallowed nervously, and followed Firmin out.

* * *

**Guest Wing – That night **

Erik walked down the hall keeping his eyes and ears open for anything that may be amiss. A voice suddenly reached his ears from the far room.

"No… please… don't leave! Come back!"

"Christine?" Erik called out as he ran to the door and burst into her room. "What's wrong?" He looked upon her with concern as she kicked her blankets off during her fitful sleep.

"Don't leave! Please… I don't wanna be alone!" she cried, reaching out into thin air for something she was trying to keep.

He walked into the room and sat on the bed beside her. "Christine, wake up," he insisted. "You're dreaming, angel."

"Don't leave me! Meggy! Erik! I'm sorry. I… I never meant to cling. Please…" she begged.

Christine's fingers suddenly clutched at Erik's mask, tugging desperately as if he was going to disappear. "Please come back!" The mask fluttered to the floor, but that was the least of his concerns.

The last time Erik had snapped someone out of a night terror, it had been DeChagny – and his fist had met the boy's perfect chin.

He was not about to use that tactic with Christine.

Erik quickly grasped her wrists and pinned them above her head to prevent any further flailing. "You need to wake up, Christine. The dream is not real!"

"Don't go… don't hate me…" she whimpered.

"I am not going anywhere, and I could never hate you," he pressed his skeletal cheek against her soft one, his voice taking on an almost hypnotic tone. "Open your eyes now, Christine," he commanded softly. "Your Erik is here."

"My… Erik…?" he heard her whisper.

He raised his head and met her bright blue eyes. "Yes, angel. Are you ok now?" he asked.

She nodded. "I… I couldn't wake up. I tried… and then I heard you… _my Erik_." Christine tilted her head and met his mouth with her own. He closed his eyes, enjoying how wonderful it was to kiss her like this, to feel her lips part beneath his.

"Stay?" she asked as her kisses grew quick and heated. "Stay with me tonight. All night… "

Over a month with barely any physical contact, he could not help but respond to her encouragement. He gently pressed himself full atop her, allowing his hands to travel over her petite form. _Oh… sweet Christine… _

The sounds of two maids walking down the hall outside the door reminded Erik of where they were – and why they were there.

He quickly broke the kiss, noticeably breathless and highly regretful. "I… have to keep guard."

Christine nodded. "Right. Right, I'm sorry. It's just…" She squirmed beneath him, unintentionally pulling a strange sound from his throat, and her breath caught. She rather liked it when Erik _growled_ in response to her. It had happened many a time.

"Christine…" he hissed through clenched teeth as she moved again, his golden depths darkening to reveal an almost primal predatory need.

Was it wrong that such a look suddenly inspired an ache that made her blush?

"I don't suppose you could spare a few minutes off guard-duty?" she asked shakily.

Erik pushed himself off her. "We have not been alone in a _month_, angel. We would need the whole _night_." He looked away quickly. "And perhaps the following day…" he added under his breath.

Christine immediately stopped her imagination from running wild.

Erik got to his feet reluctantly and picked his mask up from the floor. "Forgive me, I must return to lurking in the shadows. Such is my life." He slipped the material over his face once again "Though I imagine Little Giry would rather I NOT be lurking when she wants to be alonewith DeChagny. She acts like a giggling schoolgirl with a crush."

Christine laughed softly. "She is." She then grew serious. "I'm glad you're taking Meg's safety so seriously… I just-" She stopped, not wanting to give voice to her thoughts. Christine could not help but feel a little neglected. Perhaps it was selfish, but it HAD been over a month. _**I** have needs **too**. _

"Goodnight, angel," Erik spoke up, startling Christine from her thoughts.

"Goodnight Erik. Sweet dreams."

Erik stopped at the doorway without turning and glanced over his shoulder. "It is only because I promised Antoinette-"

"I know." Christine interrupted gently. "I just hope it doesn't last _another_ month."

Erik nodded but could not avoid his silent musing: _I do not think my sanity will survive if it DOES_.

He then quietly left the room and disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

**Laramie Drive (the next day)**

"Where IS she?" Adam cried out desperately as he clutched Sytri's shoulder. "She disappeared with the rich boy a week ago! Where did he take her! What did he DO to her?" he demanded.

He let go of Sytri and paced desperately back and forth. "I need to see her. I HAVE to see her! But the only time I lay eyes upon my swan is at the Populaire… and my brother is always with her!" He tugged at his hair, pulling out several strands. "I need to get her alone. We need… need to be _alone_!"

Martine watched with a calm detachment as Adam ranted and raved, Sytri smirking at the boy as if he was highly amused. It was obvious to anyone with a brain where DeChagny would have taken Meg Giry.

But Adam was not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. He needed to be TOLD everything, as logic seemed an alien subject to him.

She sighed to herself. Sometimes fools had to figure things out on their own. Surely she would be cheating the boy if she made such a thing so easy for him. "Where, of all places, do you think DeChagny would take the girl?" she asked simply. "She is still in town, so she cannot be THAT far." _**Think**, you sadistic moron!_ She frowned.

Adam wasn't listening, however. "I will sneak into the Populaire!" he decided instead. "Yes… that is what I will do. It is a good plan. Perhaps I will catch her when she least expects it… yes… perhaps…" he continued muttering plans to himself as he walked down the hall and into his room.

With a deep breath, Martine turned to Sytri. "Your choice of a replacement son is sadly lacking."

* * *

**DeChagny Residence – Attic (the next night)**

Erik stared out the window of the large attic as he sat on a rickety wooden trunk. He had cleaned the dust and cobwebs from the glass to allow him a full view of the grounds outside, now bathed in darkness save for the lawn lights.

Erik took a deep breath as he ran a hand through his ebony hair. _The police won't be able to stop him_, he concluded of Meg's admirer.

He had gotten word from Nadir that the body of a young girl had been found horribly mutilated and missing its heart.

She bore a passing resemblance to Megan Giry.

He had kept the information to himself. It was not something Meg nor Christine, nor Antoinette for that matter, needed to know.

DNA evidence had been left on the girl's person, and a name had been linked to it. Adam Lawren. A boy who had been in and out of Juvenile Hall several times as a child and had disappeared in the system once he reached the age of 18.

Far too much like Erik's own history.

Erik could not help but imagine what would have happened if Christine had not returned _his_ affections. Would he have been driven to do what Adam had done? The fact Meg had not even SEEN the boy in question did not matter. In Adam's mind, she should be his regardless.

_There, but for the grace of god, go I…and I do not even believe in god._

Erik had recognized the look in the boy's eyes the night he felt the rope around his neck. It was the same look he saw in the mirror every time he executed – no, KILLED.

_I am just like him. I am a murderer. No pretending to be anything different_. _I was not **forced** into being the guild's executioner, I **agreed** to it. _

The promise he had made would eventually end in the boy's death. A death he would not hesitate to bring about.

That was what he did.

_I am the Angel of Death._

"Erik?" Erik was startled out of his introspection by Christine's hesitant call. "Hello?" She slowly peeked around the corner and smiled when she saw him. "One of the maids said you came up here. I got worried when I didn't see you at dinner. There's still some stuff left over. We can sneak into the kitchen and warm it up."

"I contented myself with a Big Mac and fries," he answered as Christine came to kneel on the floor in front of him. She made a face, unimpressed with his choice of meal.

"At least come watch movies with us?" she asked as she entwined her fingers with his. "Raoul has this huge entertainment room. Big screen, surround sound… everything!"

"No, thank you. I would rather just sit here for a while longer."

Christine furrowed her brow and rested her hands on his thighs. "What's wrong?"

What could he say to her? "I've been thinking of the best way to kill Little Giry's secret admirer…"? Somehow he did not believe that would sit well.

He reached out and brushed a curly golden lock off her forehead. "I am just in one of my dark moods, beloved."

She moved between his knees and slid her arms around him, tilting her head up to brush her lips against his. Erik closed his eyes, savouring the moment. _Sweet Christine… if only my dismal thoughts **could** be cured with your kiss_.

Unfortunately, the beauty would never turn her beast into a gentle prince.

But her tender affections certainly did help.

**END OF EPISODE 49**

_

* * *

**Extra A/N: Check out ElavielEvenstar's E:TVH manips. They're wonderful: ******__http// www. freewebs. com / elavielevenstar / etvh .htm (take out the spaces) _


	50. Episode 50: Invasion

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir.**_

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 50: Invasion

By: Elektra

Erik waited impatiently for Nadir to answer his phone. When it was finally picked up, it was not whom he wanted to speak to. "Madeline?"

"Erik! Hello, how are you?"

"Where is Nadir?"

"He's out at the moment. Do you want to leave a message? I heard about that poor girl he found."

Erik frowned. "You were not supposed to know anything about that. He should not have told you."

"Oh no, don't be angry with him. I was in the room when you called about the nasty _gift_ Meg received, so he told me," Madeline replied. "I know you're trying hard to protect her. It makes me proud."

Erik let out a harsh laugh. "_Proud_? Oh, that means so very much to me, Madeline," he answered sarcastically.

She let out a sigh. "Why are you making things difficult between us, Erik? I'm _trying_ here."

"Twenty-one years too late, _Mother_."

She was silent a moment, then spoke again. "Fine. I get it. Before you hang up though… I just… if you'll let me… want to give you some advice." She continued before he could protest: "As serious as you are about protecting Meg, don't neglect Christine. She has needs too."

"Yes, thank you, Madeline. I believe I had quite an education about a woman's _needs_ when I was a child... or did you never notice me when you were conducting 'business'?"

"I... oh... " she stopped, and Erik received his answer in her silence.

"As I thought. Perhaps if you had spent one night sober, you WOULD have noticed me. Goodbye, Madeline! Tell Nadir I called." He quickly hung up, fuming at the situation.

Nadir was far too soft, letting that woman leech off him for so long. There could be no practical reason for it.

Erik was starting to wonder if there was something Nadir wasn't telling him.

* * *

**Laramie Dr.**

Adam paced back and forth across his bedroom nervously. "Oh Megan... what will I do?" he asked. "I need you as I've never needed anyone. Don't you understand? What has that boy done to you? Did he harm you? Did he force you from your friends and family?"

He stopped and turned to the chair a few feet away. "I will save you from him, my lovely swan. He could never make you happy. You and I will be blissful. I will show you things he never could. I could please your heart and body if you'll only give me a chance."

He knelt by the chair. "Please, Megan. Let me show you. Just say 'yes', and I will show you!"

The girl sitting gagged and bound before him could only cry.

* * *

**Guest Wing – DeChagny Residence**

Erik opened the door quietly and stepped inside the room. His eyes fell upon a sleeping Christine, curled up with one of Isis's kittens, Odin.

Erik recalled how unhappy DeChagny was that he had decided to bring his pets with, but really – what else could he do? He refused to abandon the poor things.

He knelt beside the bed and studied Christine's sleeping face. Odin lifted his head and let out a soft little mew, then yawned and lay his head on his paw, resuming his catnap.

"Lucky thing you are," Erik spoke to the cat softly as he stroked his little head. "What I would not give to be in your place at this moment."

"Erik?"

Erik turned away from the cat to see Christine's lovely blue eyes regarding him. "I did not mean to wake you, beloved. I just wanted to check on you."

"I haven't seen you all day." She pouted as she reached out to slide her fingers over the edge of his mask. "You were too busy with Giselle's class."

"More specifically, I was keeping on eye on Little Giry," he corrected lightly. "But once DeChagny came to pick her up, I watched your rehearsal from the flies. You are doing very well."

"It's so much work!" Christine replied, then smiled. "But thank you for pushing me into it. I _love_ it, Erik. I never thought I could be good enough to be on stage… but the feeling I get when I'm up there…it's amazing! I can't wait until we open!"

"I will be there, lurking in Box 5 as usual," he replied.

Christine then glanced away, her voice growing soft. "What happens when school starts again?"

"Nothing. You stay with the company. No need to return to Ravelle," Erik replied.

"But… my dad… he wanted me to learn other stuff just in case…"

"The stage WILL work out for you."

"But if it doesn't-"

"_If_ it doesn't, then you have ME," he replied as he took her hand and kissed her knuckles. "I will take care of you. Always."

Christine shook her head. "I can't leech off other people all the time."

"You are no leech - but if there is something more practical you wish to learn, I can teach you many things."

"I wish I had your mind," she smiled.

"I would never wish my mind on _anyone_, angel. It is very dark in there." He made to stand but Christine quickly grasped his hand and looked up at him expectantly. He crouched beside her bed again and kissed her gently. "Good night, Christine."

"Goodnight, Erik."

* * *

**Laramie Dr.**

Adam held the girl in his arms as they lay in bed. "Isn't this nice, my little swan? Oh now… don't cry, Megan. I promised you I would wait until we were married. But I _do_ love to hold you…"

The bound girl cried out and tried to pull away, but Adam only grasped her tighter as he brushed his lips against her cheek.

"Ahhh… so sweet," he sighed. "That was my first kiss, swan. Did you know that? I'm sure it must have been yours as well. You've been waiting for me all your life, haven't you? I know you have. You're pure and innocent. I promise I will keep you that way."

He kissed her cheek again and spooned closer. "Oh how I love you Megan. So very, very much."

* * *

Martine sighed as she stood on the other side of Adam's door. She heard the other girl's muffled cries and knew the poor thing was terrified. 

Things were getting far out of hand. The girl was going to be missed, and the authorities would start looking for her. The last thing Martine wanted was for someone to find the child HERE.

She crossed her arms and frowned. There was only one thing to do – allow the girl to return home BEFORE anyone started searching.

Of course, there was only one person whom she could rely on to see the girl to safety, and it was neither Sytri nor Adam.

* * *

**DeChagny Residence**

Meg walked aimlessly through the DeChagny mansion. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong – something aside from the usual.

She hugged herself as she recalled her class earlier today. Someone was missing: A fellow classmate – Sara - that had not been seen all day. She had not called in sick, which would have been the appropriate thing to do if one was to miss a class.

Most thought she had simply quit, finding the life of a dancer too difficult. But after what had happened to Michelle, Meg wondered if there was more to it.

"Meg? What are you doing up?" Meg turned to see Raoul rubbing his eyes as he walked towards her.

"Can't sleep…" she muttered.

"That's been happening to a lot of us," Raoul replied with a crooked little smile.

Meg thought he looked absolutely precious, disheveled hair and all. She bit her lip and looked away. Would he freak out if she asked him for a hug right now? She could definitely use one.

"I'm sorry, Ray," she said instead.

"About what?" he asked, not minding her use of his nickname.

"About all this. It's my fault you haven't been sleeping. And I've put you in danger too."

Raoul let out a small laugh. "Last I checked, it was some crazy man that caused all this." He shrugged. "Well, the crazy man that ISN'T named Erik."

He was about to say more, but froze upon feeling a cold shiver down his back. He slowly turned around, only to see Erik himself glaring down at him with glowing yellow eyes. "Where the hell did YOU come from?" Raoul sputtered.

A smirk played across Erik's pale-white lips. "I'm _everywhere_, DeChagny."

Raoul took a step back. "You're one incredibly creepy bastard, you know that?"

Erik offered a mock bow. "Why thank you."

Without another word, Erik disappeared back into the shadows, leaving Meg and Raoul alone once again.

* * *

Erik stepped outside and went around the front of the mansion. The guards at the gate indicated a woman standing a few feet away. They had called Erik earlier and informed him there was someone outside waiting to see him. When they told him her description, he informed them not to let her in. 

"My, quite the security you have here, Mr. Garner," Martine Robichaux began as Erik came up to her.

He frowned. "Why are you here and why shouldn't I kill you?"

She held her hands out helplessly. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I simply thought you should know something about Meg Giry's secret admirer. He's staying at Laramie Drive."

Erik studied her curiously. "How do you know this?"

"Because I'm currently a guest there. And I'm telling you because I'd rather not have the authorities beating down the door when they find out about the young lady Adam kidnapped." She met Erik's eyes. "And if you wish to confront your father, he will NOT be around when you come claim the lady."

"Why should I believe you?" he asked.

"Believe me or don't, Mr. Garner. But an innocent girl will die if you hesitate." Martine raised an eyebrow. "And I've a feeling you'd rather not have any more blood on your hands."

Erik watched Martine as she walked away, wondering why he wasn't going after her with his rope.

No matter. It seemed his rope was better saved for Adam instead.

* * *

**Laramie Dr.**

Following the tunnels beneath the large looming house, Erik carefully made his way into 66 Laramie Drive. He remembered the last time he had been here – and wished to forget just as easily. His angel had been locked down here with several other poor souls.

Not wanting to think of that any longer, he slowly made his way into the house proper .

True to Martine's word, Shay was no where to be found, but Erik knew the house was not empty. He walked along each floor and placed an ear to each door.

As he continued to search, he heard sobbing down the hall and slowly began to walk towards it. When he came to the door, he crouched down before it, pulled a small kit of tools out of his duster, and proceeded to pick the lock.

Upon entering the room, Erik was greeted with a wide pair of frightened green eyes. The girl, who not surprisingly bore a passing resemblance to Meg Giry, began to scream through the cloth in her mouth, desperately trying to break free from the ropes that tied her to the chair she was sitting on.

Erik swore under his breath and quickly went up to her. She tried to jump away, but the chair was unforgiving and ended up sending her to the floor.

"Shut up!" he snapped as he yanked the gag from her mouth.

He hated it when women screamed.

The girl quickly silenced herself as Erik reached for her wrist and tore the rope apart. He freed her legs and grabbed her arm, yanking her to her feet. She stared up at him, terrified eyes rimmed with red.

Her legs were shaky beneath her, but Erik didn't have the time nor patience to let her recover. He quickly dragged her out of the room and down the hall.

"What is your name?" he demanded.

"Sara," she replied meekly.

Erik said nothing more, trying to understand Martine's motives. That woman was difficult to figure out.

"Um… are you… some kind of superhero?" Sara asked. "Like… hiding your secret identity and stuff?"

"Hardly," Erik muttered. He tugged out his cell phone and called Nadir, informing him of what had transpired.

No sooner had he hung up then he heard the voices down the hall. One he realized was Adam's, another was Martine's, and the third…

_Father…_

He quickly tugged Sara into another room and shut the door, leaving them both in darkness. "Oh God… he's back!" She gasped. "Oh God oh God oh-"

Erik slid a leather-clad palm over her mouth, his bared fingers clamping down against her cheek. "I believe I told you to SHUT UP," he whispered harshly. She let out a little whimper but silenced herself quickly. "Don't you dare start crying!" Erik warned as her tears slid over his fingertips.

He could feel her shaking and knew she was frightened, but he did not know the first thing about comforting her. Nor did he have the time to try as he heard Shay and Adam's voices down the hall and coming closer.

Sara stiffened against Erik, no doubt aware of whose voice it was echoing past the room.

"Father?" That was Adam. "Why are you stopping?" Erik saw the shadow of two feet beneath the crack at the bottom of the door.

Shay.

Erik couldn't help but wonder why Adam was calling him 'father.'

"I have a feeling we're not alone," Shay answered, his voice betraying that it was more than a simple feeling.

"Fools," Martine spoke up. "Who else would be here?"

"I don't know, Martine," Shay continued knowingly. "Who WOULD have come here? Surely no one knows I'm still around. Surely my SON doesn't know." Shay's voice was filled with accusation.

"Of course I know, father," Adam spoke. "Unless… you mean… HIM." He then grew angry. "Why must you always bring up my ungrateful older brother! WHY?"

Erik had never heard an adult male screech like a little child before.

He pushed away from the door and weighed his options. He could come out of the room and attack both men, but that would mean abandoning the girl and perhaps leaving her to their mercies should he fail.

_I've a feeling you'd rather not have any more blood on your hands._

Martine's words came back to haunt him.

No, he did NOT want to have more blood on his hands. But while Erik knew he would have to soil himself with Adam's blood eventually, he could delay it long enough to see Sara to safety.

"I am going to let go of you, Sara," Erik whispered in her ear. "But if you want to live, you must remain silent and do what I tell you, else you will put BOTH of us at the mercy of the two men we just heard down the hall. I'm quite sure you don't want that."

Sara nodded in agreement, and Erik slowly removed his hand from her mouth. He pressed his ear against the door and waited.

"Maybe there IS no one here," Shay said finally, and Erik heard him move on.

He waited a few moments, then led the girl to the window on the other side of the room. He opened it and hoisted her up, as it was far too high for her to reach on her own. "Get out now. Don't let them see you."

The girl looked back at him worriedly, but he shooed her onward and she quickly slid through to the other side, dropping down to the ground.

Erik was about to follow until he heard footsteps return to the door again. "Erik?" came Shay's taunting voice. "I know you're in there. I can sense you, son…"

Shay chuckled. " Oh… you've managed to block me out when you're at a distance, but standing no more than a few feet from me, I can see into your tormented little mind."

Erik closed his eyes, trying to push Shay's presence away. "I give you credit, Erik. You snapped out of my control. That boy— Adam? He's _not_ so bright. I had fun screwing with his head. He thinks I'm his father – and you're his brother! It has provided me no end of amusement."

Shay then grew serious. "Sadistic little bastard, though, isn't he? I imagine you helped his _guest_ escape. Well, all for the best. She was useless to me anyway." He was silent a moment. "Speaking of girls …"

Erik felt his legs go out from under him as a sudden pressure filled his head, almost like a migraine.

Shay's voice pierced through the haze. "Oh now, isn't this interesting? It seems your little angel is not so angelic anymore. Excellent breaching of the maidenhead, my boy!" The creature's laugh was almost deafening. "Awww… but poor untouched Erik had _no_ idea what to do. How very embarrassing for a man your age."

Erik put his hands up to his temples. "Go. Away," he hissed through clenched teeth.

Shay paid no heed. "But you DID learn quickly, the genius that you are. Why, she even started begging for _more_!"

"Stop!" Erik cried out as he squeezed his eyelids tighter. "_You_ … are not allowed to ... _see_ her! NOT like that! NEVER like that!"

"You are quite protective of her privacy, aren't you?" Shay chuckled. "What a considerate lover you are. And she certainly likes the extra special attention you give her."

"GET OUT!" Erik demanded as his intimate moments with Christine flashed like a slideshow before his eyes - memories that Shay was watching for his own perverse pleasure.

"Flexible little thing, isn't she?"

Erik let out a roar of anger and threw himself against the closed door as if it would strike down the monster standing on the other side of it. "You have… no… NO right! She… she's my… MY… angel! _Mine_! ONLYmine! You're not ALLOWED!"

The hellish creature let out a mock sigh, unaffected by Erik's frantic yelling. "Yes, yes, that naughty little angel certainly _is_ all yours. And you never fail to please. I'm so very proud!"

"You _bastard_! You sick… _sick_ bastard! How DARE you?" Erik bellowed as he fought against the crude violation of Christine's privacy. "Don't WATCH! Don't LOOK at her! You _defile_ her with your intrusions!"

"Defile?" Shay asked. "_You_ seemed to be the one defiling the girl. What a shameful perverted creature you are…" He chuckled then. "Just like your dear ol' dad."

"I am… nothing… NOTHING… like YOU!" Erik seethed.

"Oh, you are far more like me than you think!" Shay replied. "Do tell me, son – how loudly do you make her _sing_?"

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Erik screamed, using all his mental acumen to finally push Shay out.

Erik heard Shay's surprised shout from the other side of the door, followed by the sound of the creature falling to the floor with a painful cry. "How? How did you DO that! You… you half-breed _bastard_!"

"You VIOLATED my _angel_!" Erik roared. "I will KILL you for that!"

Erik was quite ready to open the door and deal with his father face to face - until he heard Adam and Martine quickly calling out for Shay, their footsteps thundering down the hall and growing closer.

Despite his burning anger, Erik was quite aware he was in no position to deal with all _three_ of them at the same time.

He quickly leapt through the opened window to make his escape, and found himself colliding with a frightened Sara, who had yet to make _her_ escape.

There was no time to question the girl's hesitation. Instead, Erik tossed Sara ungracefully over his shoulder and spirited them both from Laramie Drive as quickly as he could.

**END OF EPISODE 50**


	51. Episode 51: The Angel of Death

**_A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir, especially for the ballet stuff. _**

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 51: The Angel of Death

By: Elektra

Erik sat on the floor, his back against the wall as he watched Christine sleeping. _Forgive me, angel…_ he thought silently. _I never meant for Shay to see our private moments. He had no right!_

Every inch of Christine's little form that Erik had so lovingly committed to memory, Shay now knew. Every touch and kiss and caress he had shared with her, Shay now shared. The intimate secrets that only HE should know about his beloved, Shay had found out.

Erik had felt the need to hit something. Repeatedly. If not for the fact ceramic tiles were painfully hard and would eventually break bones if one continued to punch them, there would have been a fist-sized hole in DeChagny's guest bathroom. He looked down at his bruised knuckles with a frown.

"Erik? What's wrong? You look more broody than usual." Erik glanced up to see Christine staring at him from her bed. "Why are you sitting there all by your lonesome?" She climbed off the bed and went up to Erik, crouching in front of him.

"Forgive me," he whispered softly, head hung in shame.

"For what?" Christine asked.

"For letting him… letting Shay see us."

She furrowed her brow. "Come again? Where did _Shay_ come from and what did he _see_?"

Erik closed his eyes, and told her what had occurred the night before – the girl's kidnapping, breaking into Laramie Drive, and the subsequent mind invasion.

"So…" Christine gently took Erik's injured hand. "When Shay was taking a trip through your head what, exactly, did he find there?"

"Us," he answered. "Our _intimacies_."

"You mean, he saw your memories of… of when we-"

"Yes," Erik answered.

"Oh, wow. That… that's … embarrassing." She glanced away. "And here I thought Meg _hearing_ us was bad."

Christine blushed as she remembered Meg's rather colourful description of Erik's voice after one such incident. Her friend had joked that he should be making audio recordings of smutty romance novels, as it would be a big seller for some rather lonely housewives – though not because the stories were any good.

"Shay violated your privacy, Christine. That is far worse than Little Giry accidentally overhearing us. I should have protected you better."

"It was _your_ privacy too," Christine answered as she met Erik's eyes.

He shook his head. "My privacy matters little. It was YOU whom he wanted to see."

Christine brushed a lock of ebony hair off his masked forehead. "It's not _your_ fault, Erik."

She then shuddered slightly. "I mean, not that it ISN'T incredibly disturbing to find out Shay _knows_ all that stuff now. But as long as YOU'RE the one creating those memories with me, it's ok."

Christine wrapped her arms around Erik's shoulders and slid astride his lap, pressing her face against his neck and breathing in his scent. "Ooooh, you smell good. Did you just take a shower?"

"I did," he replied. He had almost rubbed his skin raw while he had fumed silently over what Shay had done - which had then led to the subsequent wall-punching.

"I don't suppose I could join you next time?" Christine asked as she felt Erik's arms come up around her.

"Ah, but that WOULD be _distracting_," he answered regretfully.

She pouted against his shoulder. "I don't know if I should be _amazed_ by your willpower, or _insulted_ by it."

"Neither," Erik replied as he gently trailed his fingers over the small of her back, her low-rise sleep shorts revealing the soft, tempting skin. "I learned long-ago how to push away my needs. I had believed them to be a cruel burden. After all, who would ever give me a chance to _act_ on them?"

"But now…?" Christine asked.

"NOW, my sweet angel," Erik whispered as he slowly ran his hands over Christine's lovely form, "I _need_ you."

Christine raised her head from his shoulder, and his lips immediately descended upon hers, trailing down to her neck before gently nipping the one spot that always made her shiver.

"You have no idea _how much_ I need you," he breathed.

Christine closed her eyes and allowed her head to fall back, giving Erik's warm mouth access to her tender throat - and anything else he wanted.

"Why…" she gasped out as she slid his mask off. "Why are you tormenting me? You… you're only going to stop and be all Hunter-y after a few-" Her words were lost as he lowered her to the plush carpet, his tender kisses and gentle caresses travelling where they had not traveled in almost two months.

Christine's fingers sunk into his hair as she forced herself to speak again. "Please… Erik… don't start what you won't finish. You said you... you didn't want to get distracted…"

He slowly raised his head, his golden eyes darkening as his voice dropped to a growl. "Perhaps I _need_ a distraction…"

"Oh thank God," Christine breathed, then pulled his mouth down once more as they proceeded to finish what they started.

* * *

**Later**

Erik slowly opened his eyes and saw the dawn sneaking in behind the shade. Christine was still sleeping; the look upon her face peaceful and satisfied.

He ran long thin fingers down her cheek and gently grasped her chin, tilting her head ever so slightly to brush his lips over hers. She sighed contentedly but did not wake.

"I love you…" he whispered against her ear, then carefully untangled himself from her and climbed to his feet.

He picked his clothing up from the floor and tugged it back on, then he offered one more look at Christine, kissed her cheek, and headed towards the door.

_Sweet angel…_ he thought as he slid his mask back on _this will all be over very very soon… _

* * *

**DeChagny Residence – Two nights later**

"Chrissy!" Raoul called down the hall, stopping Christine in her tracks. She turned to face him, and saw he was highly annoyed. "Tell your freak of a boyfriend to stay OUT of my private bathroom!"

Christine frowned, arms crossed. "First, don't call Erik a _freak_ in front of me. Second, what makes you think he was in there?"

"My after-shave!" Raoul pointed out. "I bought a new bottle the other day, and now it's disappeared."

"Erik has no use for after-shave," Christine explained, dismissing his accusation outright.

"Hey, he may be one ugly corpsey-looking bastard, but at least he's clean shaven," Raoul pointed out.

Christine bit her lip, wondering if Erik would care if she told Raoul WHY he was clean shaven. Well, it was better than having Raoul think Erik stole from him.

"Erik can't _grow_ facial hair," she explained.

Raoul was taken aback, his annoyance giving way to surprise. "Are you serious?"

She nodded. "The only hair Erik has is his eyelashes and the hair on his head."

In fact, Erik's entire _body_ was as smooth as the day he was born. And as unnatural as it may have been, she had found it peculiarly attractive.

Raoul seemed contemplative. "I'll take your word for it," he said. "I guess I'll ask around and see if anyone was wandering near my rooms. Maybe I just misplaced it or something. I'm sorry, Chrissy. I didn't mean to jump down your throat. Hell, it's not even YOU I have issues with."

"That's ok. Erik has _issues_ with you too. I don't think he'd WANT anything of yours," she joked lightly.

Raoul let out a soft laugh. "Yeah, good point. I think I've just gotten overly paranoid with what's been going on lately."

"We all have," Christine replied with understanding. "Go check on Meggy when you get a chance. She'd appreciate the company."

Raoul nodded. "I'll do that right now. She seems to calm me when I get stressed out, too. I'll see you at supper?"

Christine responded in the affirmative, and the two parted ways. She couldn't help but smiling upon hearing Raoul speak about Meg. Maybe the illustrious Raoul DeChagny was starting to see the ballet teacher's daughter as more than a friend after all.

* * *

**Laramie Drive – the next day**

Adam patted his face with Raoul DeChagny's after-shave. Surely Meg would appreciate the unique scent.

He had noticed a lack of security around the mansion last afternoon when his beloved swan wasn't there, and had used it to his advantage.

Unfortunately, with his older brother lurking about the house in the evenings, and the increased security, Adam had to make himself scarce before she had returned from her classes at the Populaire.

At this rate, he would never get close to Meg.

Every night she practiced in the dance studio, he would be unable to approach her because she would always be with Christine or Raoul.

But now… now he found himself so very desperate for his swan that he would deal with those two if need be.

_No more hiding. I WILL reveal myself to her this evening. If her friends get in the way, I will take care of them._

With that goal firmly in his mind, Adam headed out to the Populaire.

* * *

**Populaire Dance Studio**

Meg stepped into the rosin box and ground the dust onto her pointe shoes. She tapped off the excess and walked to the corner of the room.

"Are you ready?" Christine asked, her finger on the PLAY button.

Sighing and rolling her shoulders, Meg smirked. "Better to tackle my impossibly difficult solo then to worry about my disgusting stalker." She readied herself. "Let's do this."

Christine sat on the stool in the corner as Meg pushed her way through the piece from _Donizetti Variations_. The Balanchine choreography wasn't really that challenging for Meg on a normal day, but these days were anything but normal, and Christine worried as Meg repeatedly fell off of pointe. Finally, Meg stopped, put her hands on her hips, and gestured angrily for Christine to cut the music.

"It started off good," Christine offered.

"Give me a break. I was off my leg from '5,6,7,8'." Meg tilted her neck side to side.

"You're too hard on yourself. You should be home resting after a long day of class and rehearsal."

"Rest doesn't promote you." Meg wiped a hand over her forehead and adjusted her leotard straps. "Rest lets me think."

"I understand. But really, I know you can do this variation. You're tailor-made for this sort of piece."

"Well…" Meg paused, and walked over to the corner where her bag and water bottle was stashed. "Thanks. I just wanted to work on my interpretation. I feel—I normally feel—really solid with the technique. It's the nuances. The stuff they don't bother working on at this stage of the game."

"Exactly!" Christine leapt to her feet and went to stand near Meg. "You get to a certain point and there's no one coaching you on the 'little' things, which aren't little at all!"

Meg smiled. "Well, you have Erik to help you with all that. Giselle isn't going to haunt my vents and whisper genius hints in my ear."

"Your mother could help."

"I'd rather do this on my own," Meg admitted. "My mother's a wonderful teacher and a great coach, but I need to find this in myself. I need to learn how to project and transform these steps into something captivating on my own. Because if I do, I'll never have to worry about my ability to go beyond the surface of the work."

Meg put the bottle down and looked at Christine pointedly. "You ready, Maestro? Let's give this another shot."

* * *

**Outside the Populaire**

Adam watched Meg dance as her friend kept her company. He had since barred the studio door from the outside. His swan wouldn't fly away.

Wrapping his hand in a rag, Adam broke the glass in the window and cleared it out of the way, startling the two girls before him.

"Megan…" he sighed as he looked upon her. "Sweet, sweet Megan."

"Who are you?" Meg demanded as Christine joined her side.

He smiled. "I'm your secret admirer. My name is Adam."

Meg stumbled back, grasping Christine fearfully and shaking her head. "No… no… you… stay away from me!"

Adam seemed perplexed. "What is it? What's wrong? Didn't you like my gifts?"

"Oh God!" Meg choked out. "You're sick!"

Adam stepped towards her, and Christine wrapped a protective arm around her friend.

Adam grew irritated. "After everything I've done for you, THIS is how you treat me? I got rid of your _competition!_ I deserve a reward!" He reached for Meg once again but Christine pulled her away.

His eyes didn't leave Meg. "Tell your friend to let you come to me, my swan!" He demanded. "Tell her you _dance_ for me. That you knew I was watching. You knew I was _always_ watching! And you were _waiting_ for me!"

Meg was shaking now. "C'mon, Meggy! Let's go!" Christine said as she dragged her friend towards the door. She attempted to open it, only to find it wouldn't budge.

"Dammit!" Christine cursed as she threw herself up against the door. Unfortunately, she was far too petite to make it budge. "ERIK!" she shouted out. "ERIK! Where are you! We're in the studio! HE'S HERE! He's trying to get MEG!"

"Don't call him!" Adam hissed. "Don't you DARE call my brother!"

"Brother!" Meg sputtered, then shook her head. "No. No way you're related to him!"

Adam suddenly grabbed Meg from Christine and shook her desperately. "Forget that!" he cried out. "I want you, Megan! Please… I need you!"

"You cannot have her..." a voice spoke calmly as a shadow descended from the air-ducts, his golden eyes focused on Adam.

"Get out!" Adam demanded as he glared at Erik. "Leave me with my swan!"

Erik pulled Meg from Adam's grip. "I think not." He pushed Meg towards Christine. "Leave now. I will deal with this."

"The door… it won't open," Christine explained.

Erik would have kicked it open – if not for the sound of Adam moving behind him. He quickly spun around to see the boy whipping out his rope. "Megan is MINE. You can't have her! You CAN'T!"

He threw the rope over Erik's head, but the masked hunter was ready for him, his hand at the level of his eye. Erik quickly yanked the rope off and pulled his own out of his duster. "Don't make me use this, boy."

Adam leapt at Erik without thought, fists flying aimlessly. "She's MINE!"

Erik easily dodged the onslaught and responded with a leg sweep, knocking the boy off his feet.

Pressing his boot down on Adam's throat, he attempted to cut off his air, but Adam grabbed Erik's ankle and twisted, sending the taller man off balance. He pinned Erik to the ground and ripped his mask from Erik's face before wrapping his hands around his throat.

Adam froze as his eyes fell upon Erik's exposed visage. "What the hell?" he gasped. "What… what are you?"

Taking the moment of distraction, Erik threw the boy off him and jumped to his feet. Adam echoed the action and caught Erik with a right fist.

Not looking back, the boy ran to Meg and wrapped strong bony fingers around her throat. "You're MINE, Megan! MINE!" he shouted as he squeezed tighter. "I will NOT let that rich boy have you! NEVER!"

Meg's eyes began to water, her face turning blue as oxygen was denied her, Christine desperately trying to pull the overzealous boy off her friend.

And then it happened.

A rope flew over Christine's head and wrapped around Adam's neck.

Christine could do nothing but bear witness: One hard tug, one sickening crack, and one dead body falling to the floor.

Meg collapsed to her knees and coughed violently, desperately trying to gulp in air. "Oh god… Erik… thank… thank you… so… so much!" she gasped out, voice raw as her vocal cords suffered from the temporary compression.

Meg's eyes then fell on an unmoving Adam, but her relief to be alive overrode the fact her best friend's boyfriend had just killed a man without hesitation.

"Meg? Christine?" Raoul banged on the door from outside. "Someone blocked the way here... hold on..."

There was a sound of furniture being dragged along the tiles outside, followed by Raoul yanking the door open.

Meg quickly jumped to her feet, throwing her arms around him like a lifeline. Raoul returned the embrace with concern, and then his eye caught something else - Erik standing over a motionless young man.

Raoul didn't need to ask, nor did he _want_ to. All that mattered was that Meg's sadistic secret admirer was dead. He quickly led her out, comforting her as best he could.

Christine, on the other hand, remained frozen, staring at the dark figure before her.

"Erik-"

"Go," Erik hissed as he calmly coiled his rope, forgetting the torn mask upon the floor.

Christine shuddered at the ice in his voice. "E-Erik…?" Her breath caught as he turned to face her.

Erik's predatory golden eyes held nothing that resembled the man she knew. The tortured face she had grown to love now showed neither remorse nor regret for his actions.

Christine's beloved Erik was no longer standing in front of her. Instead, she had come face to face with the one creature he had never meant her to see.

The angel of death.

_> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >_

_Like a ton of bricks that hit me  
And woke me from this dream  
No matter how hard I tried to wash my hands  
I could never get 'em clean _

_… I can't change what I'll always be…_

_- **"Trip"** (Hedley)_

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

**END OF EPISODE 51**

* * *

**_A/N: FYI, Hedley is a Canadian band who's lead singer was top 3 finalist on "Canadian Idol 2", Jacob Hoggard. _**


	52. Episode 52: Dead Boy's Poem

_**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir. **_

I figured I would try a different style for this episode. Enjoy!

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 52: Dead Boy's Poem

By: Elektra

_Dear Diary-_

No. I am not a teenaged girl…

_The Life and Times of-_

No, I am not important enough for such a title. ****

A Ghost Story

Yes, that's it.

Now where to start?

I was born in a dirty little hospital in the red-light district, the son of a whore who had made the mistake of falling for the wrong man. Or rather, a creature who _pretended_ to be a man.

I came into the world silently. The doctors thought I was stillborn due to my appearance. In fact, they thought I had been dead for some time before my mother's body finally purged itself of me.

Until I cried.

The doctors cleaned me up, and showed me to my mother.

If I were capable of memory at such a young age, my first one would have been the horrified expression on Madeline's face and the sound of her scream as she lay her eyes upon me.

I was told she refused to take me in her arms

I asked her once, 'Mother, if you despised me, why did you not immediately put me up for adoption?'

Her answer was simple: she foolishly thought my father would stay around if she had me. When he left us both alone after setting his eyes upon his hideous child, she gave serious thought into leaving me in a dumpster. Besides, who would have wanted to adopt a _thing_ such as myself?

She was told, however, that the government would provide her money for my welfare. Not as much as she would like, but enough to buy what drugs she needed from her dealer.

Thus, I was useful to her.

Madeline made no secret of how very repulsive I was. How I was the reason she lost the man she thought she loved – a man she had met by whoring herself.

Of course, knowing what I know now, I realize Shay never had any intention of living happily ever after with her; at the time, however, she liked to think he would have.

My mother commissioned one of her clients – a man who owned a key-cutting, belt and shoe repair store – to make a leather mask for me the moment she brought me home from the hospital.

She paid him in free sex. And like new clothes, she would 'commission' him to make new masks as I grew.

It took perhaps two weeks for him to finish each new one as I began to grow out of the old ones. Until then, she would cover my face with a washcloth or some such thing.

So disgusted was she by my appearance that it was an effort to even bathe or feed me. If I did not cry, she admitted once, she would simply leave me in my crib. No doubt she hoped I would roll onto my face and stop breathing.

Alas, she was sorely disappointed. I had no plans to leave this world.

I started developing faster than any child my age. I began to stand on my own, and would often climb out of the crib. My mother would place me back in it when she saw me, but eventually, she did not bother, often leaving me to fall asleep on the floor.

When I started to crawl, she would close the door of my room, lest I crawl out into the sights of her 'guests'. I quickly figured out how to walk and open doors on my own, much to her horror.

It was not natural. _I_ was not natural.

I don't remember when I first began to talk, but Madeline did. I imagine it must have added to her discomfort, but what could she do?

The years went by, and I soon began school. Preschool, at first. I remember the sing-alongs our teacher - Ms. Amalie - would often lead us in. I would watch her play the piano, memorizing what keys she would touch to bring forth what sounds.

One day, I emulated her playing on my skeletal little legs, my bony fingers touching down just as she hit the keys. Her student assistant, Adrien, saw this and brought it to her attention after class.

As I waited for my mother to pick me up from school – something that, more often than not, would require an insistent call from Ms. Amalie – she asked me if I would like to try the piano.

And so I did, mimicking her earlier playing perfectly.

After that, she would have me sit with her by the piano when the rest of the class had left, and she would teach me how to play. Whether it was out of pity or kindness, I never knew.

Like everyone else, Ms. Amalie had done her best not to question why my face was always covered, why my body was so very thin and unhealthy looking. You see, my mother had given her a story about how very ill I was when I was born, and how it had left indelible scars upon my face and had damaged my body.

Ms. Amalie did not know that I had never been sick a day in my life. She did not know that I was born perfectly healthy with a strong heart and body. It was far easier for Madeline to make up horror stories about my health rather than admit she spewed me out as I was – a little living corpse-boy of questionable origin.

As I began my musical education with Ms Amalie, she offered to help me find another instructor to teach me once pre-school was over. Madeline would not hear of it.

Madeline, however, did not realize how determined her little boy could be. Not more than a block away was a music store.

When I began Junior Kindergarten and was then unable to see Ms. Amalie, I ventured out of the house on my own. I entered Saranda's Music Store, and ran to the first piano I saw, playing what I had been taught.

The shopkeeper, Mr. Saranda, was shocked – as were his customers. Seeing this, he took it upon himself to continue my musical education. He taught me violin as well as piano, and rather enjoyed the attention and customers it garnered when I sat in the middle of his store – a child of 5 – and played like a virtuoso.

My presence gave him two excellent years of business; alas, he was not a young man and soon old age, chain-smoking, and far too much fast food caught up to him. He suffered a severe heart attack and passed on. The store was sold by his sons and subsequently torn down.

This ended my musical education. It did not, however, end my music.

One good thing about public schools is that most have music rooms. Since Madeline no longer bothered to pick me up from school, I would make my way home on my own time.

And my own time was usually a few hours after school was over. If the door to the music room was locked, I would find a paperclip and unlock it - I learned how to pick a lock by grade four – and if there was a chance of being discovered, I would hide.

I had learned how to hide at _age_ four. Not out of choice, of course, but when one's mother, in a drunken rage, begins screaming, yelling, and throwing anything that is not bolted down – usually at one's head – one learns how to make their presence scarce. Whether that meant hiding in the ventilation system of the building we lived, or running out of the apartment and climbing down into the sewage tunnels, did not matter. The point is, I became very good at it.

But I digress.

I suppose the _ghost_ came into existence during those after-school diversions in the music room. Caretakers walking by would hear my playing, but I would keep the lights off in the room, finding that I could see much better than most in the darkness - no doubt a genetic trait I inherited from my father.

It seemed to be similar to a trait _They_ had as well. Yes, _They:_ The ones that lurked in the darkness when I would finally make my way home from school after several hours of playing.

_They:_The ones I seemed to FEEL more so than SEE.

_They:_ The hellish ones that I would catch fighting various humans when they thought no one else was around.

And how very special these humans were indeed. Ones who could pull out sharpened pieces of wood and turn the aforementioned creatures into dust.

No one ever knew that I witnessed these little skirmishes, nor that I had taken to whittling myself a small collection of sharpened wood in case I was seen lurking.

And so my life continued.

My mother still refused to touch me, save to strike me should I dare show up in front of her without my mask, or without her permission… or at any time the urge compelled her, really.

Oh yes, Madeline had no issue touching strange men in the most intimate ways, but she could not even offer her son a hug. I dared ask her about that once. Perhaps I had a death wish at the time.

I had been provided the answer with a rather rude awakening. It had ended with mirror shards embedded in my flesh, and the horror of my face completely revealed to me in a hideous reflection.

'This is YOU! This is why I can't stand to touch you. A freak of a son! A little corpse!'

I can still hear her voice yelling those words...

But enough about that.

My tenth year came upon me quickly.

My mother had been doing far more than whoring herself by this time. She had taken to stealing what she wanted, selling drugs to buy more drugs, and making no secret of her lawbreaking.

She had caught the attention of the police.

They raided our apartment and found me hiding in the closet – where I usually hid when Madeline had guests.

Shortly after this, I was given over to social services and placed in foster care. No one wanted to keep me around longer then necessary. Of course, I was used to such things by then. I remained unaffected.

There's no need to describe what I went through when I started high school. No need to repeat the lewd taunts in the change room when my male classmates noticed that my thirteen-year old body was still as smooth as the day I was born. No need to share what it was like to be thin as a skeleton yet taller than most boys my age.

And certainly there is no need to speak my thoughts on the neighborhood kids that believed it would be fun to open up a freak show in their backyard.

None of that mattered more then what happened when I was fifteen - when a classmate named Laura took it upon herself to see my face.

The incident that followed led me to a night in prison, another foster home, and several months on the street.

I used my ability to hide to great effect - even learning how to break and enter various homes and places of business to provide food and clothing for myself - until an unintentional meeting with Antoinette Giry changed my life.

I found Giry cornered in an alley by one of _Them_, weeping over the body of her dead husband. I still had my little collection of sharpened wood - and finally found a use for it.

Grateful, yet confused at what had transpired, Giry introduced me to the Hunter's Guild and offered to hide me beneath her place of work – Ravelle College – for as long as I wished.

She also introduced me to one Nadir Khan, a former police officer and detective who trained me in the ways of the guild, showed me how to eat properly, and how to build my body into healthier proportions. With his help, I was soon able to develop 'meat on my bones,' as Nadir put it.

Three years passed and I became one of the guild's best hunters, At age twenty, I evolved into the Executioner.

How?

Perhaps it was the ice that had grown over my heart, or my lack of a soul. But I had managed to master a weapon known as the punjab lasso – a deadly little rope Nadir had once shown me on display in a museum.

He had never intended for me to use it, of course, but I broke into the museum that very night and took it for my own. It was helpful in fighting the creatures that tried to run away.

I still remember the first time I killed with it – in vivid detail.

We – Nadir, Giry, two others and myself – were facing off against a man whose preternatural skills extended far beyond the norm. A mere thought could injure or kill one of us. It had, in fact, already done so.

We attempted to fight fire with fire, so to speak, but found nothing was working.

And then, the man attacked Antoinette.

To understand what drove me to kill, you must first understand how important that woman is to me - though I would never dare admit it to her.

Antoinette Giry showed me far more care and compassion in five years than anyone else had in _fifteen_. She accepted and took care of me when I thought I would be an outcast for the rest of my life.

I suppose she was a _mother_ to me in some ways, a far cry better than any I had ever had - biologically or in foster care.

I owed her much. And I killed a man to save her life.

It was odd, the feeling of killing. I was detached from it. I had only one goal, and that was to get the man away from Antoinette. To keep her from ending up like the victims he had already left behind.

I took the lasso out, wrapped it around his neck, and pulled him back.

The human body is not as resilient as that of the undead, however, and my strength was far more than I had thought. When I tugged on the rope, it not only pulled him away from Antoinette, but snapped his neck and brought him crashing to the ground.

Dead.

I felt nothing.

I stood there, stared at the body, and felt nothing.

And thus began the life of the guild's Executioner. I think there were others before me. At least, Antoinette hinted at it once. I remember her words, accidental words she had let slip:

_Among the Hunters, there is always one found who can handle the other threats. _

I wonder if she knew more than she let on at the time. I wonder if she knew my true origins.

Perhaps I should ask her one day. I should ask her why I, as the Executioner, do not care about the lives I have taken.

At least, I _did not_ care until Christine.

Ah, Christine. Where to start?

Even now, I cannot think about her without that ache in my chest. I love her beyond what words could ever express.

I can watch her sleep and feel content; I can see her smile and feel warmth; I can look into her eyes and feel lost.

She is my weakness and my strength. My damnation and my salvation.

She is my angel, my light, and my very soul.

She is my Christine.

Christine gave me my first hug, my first kiss, and my first experience with physical intimacy.

I have memorized every night I've spent in her arms: the smell of her hair, the look in her eyes, the feel of her skin, the sound of her cries, and the taste of her kisses.

Christine makes me feel that perhaps… just perhaps… I can be a normal man instead of a living corpse.

I would die for her... and I will _live_ for her.

I will crawl out of my darkness and leave behind the Guild and the Executioner if it means I can be with her forever.

I will do anything for her. I _want_ to.

But I cannot pretend the darkness will let me go that easily. I've tried so many times, and have failed. My father will never free his claims on me.

I know what I am, and it is nothing human. Christine has seen it first hand.

It was not more than three weeks ago the angel of death appeared before her and took a life as she stood frozen, watching. It was the one side of me I never wanted her to see.

I have been hiding ever since.

I have become part of the shadows and shied away from her light. I have heard her call out for me, but cannot bring myself to answer.

I see her rehearse on the stage of the Populaire, but cannot appear to her. I watch her asleep in her bed, but cannot join her.

I cannot face her.

I cannot speak sweetly and know that she has seen death at my hands. I cannot love her body and know that I am stained with blood.

She deserves far more than what I can give her. She deserves a man, not a monster.

My Christine deserves a prince. A wonderful, handsome prince.

And that is something I will never be.

Christine… I love you. I wish I could be what you need. But all I can do is sit here and write. I do not even know to whom I am writing. I intend to show this to no one.

… alas, I must stop. I did not realize I have been writing for so very long. It is growing late - my vision is getting blurry.

Should anyone ever read this, do not think these are _tears_ that have smudged the ink on this page, for such a thing would be impossible. I am nothing more than a ghost.

And everyone knows ghosts cannot cry.

_The Opera Ghost_ - no

_The Executioner_ - why must I be?

_The Angel of Death_ - Is this really what I am?

_… Erik_

**END OF EPISODE 52**

* * *

__

Extra A/N: "Dead Boy's Poem" is the title of a song by "Nightwish".


	53. Episode 53: Decisions

**_A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir._**

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 53: Decisions

By: Elektra

"Chrissy?" Meg approached Christine as she sat on the couch watching TV. Now that Adam was gone, they had returned to their apartment. "Can I talk to you?"

"Always."

Meg looked nervous. "About Erik... and Adam. I mean, I know you haven't seen him in a few weeks, and it's not that I don't appreciate him saving my life, but I can't help but wonder what he's doing. If he-"

"I know," Christine answered, quite aware what Meg was concerned about. Christine took a deep breath. "Remember when you were finding out about the guild? Did you see reference to an 'Executioner'?"

Meg nodded, then the realization struck her. "Erik?" Christine's silence answered the question. Meg studied her for a few moments. "How are you OK with that?"

Christine hugged herself. "I'm not. But I didn't know until after I started to care about him." She hung her head. "It freaked me out. I... I don't know if you remember when I tried to avoid him, but then... then Erik got hurt trying to help me and I couldn't stop thinking to myself 'What if it had been more serious? What would I do without him?'"

She looked back at Meg. "Just the thought of it started to hurt." She bit her lip. "But I was still scared. Too scared to act on it. To have those feelings for a man like that? What kind of person does that make ME?"

Christine stared at the floor. "Maybe it makes me a really _bad_ person."

"No, Chrissy. You're not a bad person at all." Meg met her eyes, "But I need you to be honest with me now - would Erik ever hurt _you_?"

"OH, God no! I have 100 percent faith in that."

Meg looked nervous again. "Um… he… he's nothing like Adam, right?"

"NO, Meggy. Erik doesn't wander off to sadistically kill innocent girls."

"And… he only does what he HAS to?" Meg asked. "Like a soldier or a cop or something?"

Christine thought of that analogy, and realized it was fitting. "Yeah, that's a good way to look at it."

Meg nodded. "And… he's good to you?"

"He's _very_ good to me…" Christine then frowned, a hint of anger in her voice. "When he isn't _hiding_ from me…"

* * *

**Populaire – Manager's office**

Raoul walked into the manager's office to take his audience with 'the ghost'. He had asked Giry to leave a voice message on Erik's phone telling him to meet Raoul there. Whether Erik would show up or not was unsure. Raoul hoped he would.

"What do you want, DeChagny?"

Raoul jumped at the voice in the darkness, then quickly calmed himself. "I wanted to thank you for saving Meg."

"Really? I thought you were going to say something more along the lines of 'Stay away from the girls, you murderous freak'."

"That thought DID cross my mind..." He was silent a moment. "I also wanted to tell you that Carlotta is thinking of returning full-time on stage instead of going back to teaching."

"How do you know?" Erik asked.

"Someone mentioned it at an investors' meeting," he explained. "Now, I don't know much about opera, but I don't think it's SUPPOSED to sound all high and shrieky like that."

"Carlotta has a _unique_ sound," Erik replied dryly.

"Whatever it may be, Phil and I don't have the patience for all her demands and her hissy-fits. It's bad for business." he explained. "She wants more money, a private dressing room, yadda yadda. It'll cost us more to keep her around than we care to pay, but Firmin and André have themselves backed into a corner with her contract, so…" He shrugged at the shadow leaning calmly against the wall.

"You want me to scare her away if she returns?" Erik asked with great interest.

"Do whatever it is you do. I don't care who replaces her - although I have a feeling you already have someone in mind."

"Yes." Erik's voice betrayed no emotion.

"Great… then you might want to actually TALK to Chrissy at some point." Raoul suggested with a slight frown, quite aware Erik had been avoiding the girl in question.

Erik did not respond to the comment. "I'll see what I can do about Carlotta. But DeChagny?"

"What?"

"Will you be calling upon my services on a regular basis?" Erik asked. "I DO have some ideas to make the Populaire more successful – if making money interests you, that is. I would require payment, however. Off the books," he added.

Raoul thought about this. "I'll talk to Phil."

Erik nodded in response.

With that, Raoul left the opera ghost alone once again.

* * *

**Populaire Stage**

Christine paced back and forth, remembering the note that had led her here: Written in red, it had asked for her presence two hours after rehearsal on the main stage, and was aptly signed O.G.

Christine frowned, unimpressed with such a cold note from a man that was supposed to be her lover. It was bad enough he had not talked to her face-to-face. No doubt he had retreated into his darkness again, ashamed she had seen him at his worst.

But she knew he was around - he was always around. She could _feel_ him watching her. Unfortunately, if Erik didn't want someone to see him, he would not be seen. It was a skill Christine was starting to find incredibly annoying.

She glimpsed a shadow moving off to the left and heard the sound of material rusting. Soon, the house lights flickered off and the auditorium was plunged into darkness.

Complete, utter darkness.

"I am NOT playing hide and seek with you, Erik!" Christine snapped into the emptiness. "Talk to me or I'm leaving. And if I break my neck falling off the stage, it'll be YOUR fault!"

"Do you despise him now?" She heard Erik's familiar voice echoing throughout the auditorium.

"Despise WHO?" she asked the darkness, _sensing_ him nearby.

"He never wanted you to see."

"WHO never wanted me to see WHAT?" she asked. "Stop talking in third person!"

"Do you still love him?"

"What kind of question is that?" she demanded. "Do you think I'm that fickle? I swear, Erik..."

"Do you fear him?"

"That's it!" Christine turned in the direction she thought the stairs were and began to walk tentatively towards them.

"Christine!" An arm suddenly shot out and grabbed her around the waist - and not a moment too soon, as she felt the stage disappear beneath her feet. "_That_ was the orchestra pit."

Once her feet were on solid ground, she turned in his grasp and pushed at his chest with a hint of anger. "At least I got you to stop talking in third person."

He took a step back and said nothing.

"Erik?"

"Do I make you uncomfortable?" He asked.

"I saw you kill a man, Erik. I mean… I knew, but… I never _saw_ that look in your eyes. I can't lie and say I was OK with that."

"Christine… I don't want to cause you pain, but you have seen the _real_ me."

She looked up at the amber orbs above her. "If _that_ was the real you, then what did I see that night in your room?" she asked. "The first night we-"

"My weakness," he interrupted as he walked away and left her standing alone.

Christine frowned. "Weakness?" she asked. "Does that make ME weak too? I'm the one who _initiated_ it!"

"That's not what I meant."

"What DID you mean then, Erik?" She stomped a foot angrily. "Afterwards, when you held me, when you watched me sleep, what were you _thinking_?"

His voice was barely above a whisper. "I was thinking… how much I _loved_ you."

Her anger calmed a little. "Then how could that be a weakness?"

He said nothing for a few moments and she worried he had disappeared, until he broke the silence. "What were you thinking when you saw me kill Adam?"

"I thanked god the bastard was dead and Meggy was safe." She answered, "and then…"

"You grew frightened."

"Yes, Erik. The _Executioner_ scares the crap out of me!" she admitted. "But now… at least I know that _the Executioner_, and _Erik_, are entirely different people."

"And what if the former takes over?" he asked.

She stood firm. "I'll never let that happen."

He let out a soft sigh. "Christine… you could not stop it."

"Who says?" she asked stubbornly. "It wasn't _the Executioner_, or the _Opera Ghost_, or whatever weird name you use, that I fell for. It was _Erik. _I deserve to have him again."

"You deserve far more than that." He replied. After a moment of silence, Erik spoke again. "I need to do something."

Christine grew worried. "What?"

"I need to find out if I am the only one who can _do_ what I do for the Guild. I need to find out if there are others. If there _have_ been others. Perhaps I can find out how _they_ were able continue with their lives. I need to be sure I can put this behind me before... before it's too late."

"Too late?" she asked. "Stop acting all cold and distant, Erik!" There was no reply. "Erik?" Nothing. "Erik, are you still here?"

Christine swore under her breath. Erik had disappeared once again.

She raised her voice angrily, her words echoing in the theater. "I GIVE UP!"

* * *

**Nadir Khan's apartment – later**

Erik knocked on Nadir's apartment impatiently. He did not care that it was two o'clock in the morning. He needed answers and needed them now.

Soon enough, a half-asleep Nadir opened the door. "Erik! What are you doing here so late? Or rather, early." He asked.

"I need to talk to you." Erik replied as he let himself in.

Nadir studied him for a moment, realizing he had a purpose. "What is it?" he asked as he joined Erik on the couch.

"I need to know about the Executioner," he said. "Were there others before me?"

Nadir looked uncomfortable. "Perhaps such a question is better asked of Leroux. He is the one that founded the Guild, after all."

Erik frowned. "Yes... and he is so very forthcoming with information."

Erik was about to say more when Nadir's room door opened and a disheveled grey-blond head peaked out. "Nadir? Are you coming back to bed?"

Nadir looked at the door, then back to Erik, whose golden eyes seemed to have enlarged to double their normal size. "Wait, Erik... I can explain!"

Erik jumped to his feet, fists clenched at his side as the woman behind the door stepped out hesitantly.

"Erik... honey?" she began nervously. "I... I didn't know you were-"

"Nadir," Erik interrupted with a growl, "why was my _mother_ in your bedroom?"

Madeline hugged her filmy robe closed. "There's more going on here than you think."

"Is THIS how you pay for your keep?" Erik snapped angrily. "Not that such a thing is _beneath_ you, of course!"

"Erik!" Nadir quickly stood up. "It's NOTHING like that!"

Erik spun on Nadir and grabbed him by the collar of his robe. "Are you _sleeping_ with my MOTHER?"

"I CARE for Maddy." Nadir replied angrily. "I understand your childhood bitterness, but she was young and scared then! She is a grown woman now. We-"

"NO!" Erik shoved Nadir away. "I don't want to hear it!" He glared at the two before him. "How long?" he demanded. "How long has this been going on?"

"Four months," Nadir explained with great discomfort. "Perhaps I should have told you when we started courting some time ago, but I wasn't sure how you would take it. I was going to tell you. WE were going to-"

"I do not CARE!" Erik roared. "She is my MOTHER! And YOU are supposed to be my FRIEND!"

"I'm also a MAN, Erik! And I'm not getting any _younger_. Madeline and I are only a few years apart, do you realize that? We both want to settle down. Perhaps travel around the world together. We truly do enjoy one another."

"Yes, I can _see_ how you enjoy one another!" Erik hissed as he gestured to Madeline, still hovering near the door to Nadir's room.

Erik then turned his back on both of them and quickly stormed to the door. "I cannot be here right now! I cannot... cannot SEE this!"

"Erik, please … stay?" Madeline piped up. "We should talk-" Her words froze in her throat as Erik's golden eyes slid to her slowly.

"Oh no, _Mother_," his voice was low, almost frightening. "You really _don't_ want me to stay right now. Trust me."

Without another word, Erik left the apartment.

* * *

_Why?_ Erik wondered as he rode his bike recklessly through the darkened streets. He needed to hit something. Hard. 

He soon sensed something nearby worth hitting. No... _three_ things worth hitting. Or staking. Not more than a few feet away, no less.

He turned down an alley and slowly slid off the seat, waiting for the creatures to make their move.

_WHY!_ Erik demanded silently as the three of them rushed him at once. _Why can she care for everyone but her son?_ He caught the first creature off-guard, sending dust flying.

_I made excuses for her!_ He grabbed the second one by the head, twisting until he heard a sickening crack, then brought his boot down on its back as it flailed on the ground, a sharp snap echoing in the alley. _I thought perhaps she wasn't capable of caring._ Erik's foot shot out and caught the third one in the jaw, sending it crashing to the ground. _I thought perhaps she was too hurt by father's betrayal. _He blocked a punch as the creature jumped back to its feet.

_But now I see._ He laughed harshly, the thing before him growing fearful. _It wasn't because of HIM - it was because of ME. Her little living dead boy!_

He shoved a fist into the creature's throat, sending it rearing back gasping for breath.

_Damn her!_

Erik threw his stake like a dart at the stumbling creature's heart, turning it to dust easily.

_Damn them both!_

He grabbed the stake once more and turned back to the broken one suffering at his feet.

_My mother and father can BOTH burn in Hell!_

He impaled the stake with such force that it splintered and cracked as it went right through the creature and hit the pavement.

Erik fell to his knees, staring at the destroyed stake in his hand, ignoring the dust on his pants.

"I give up…" he whispered harshly.

He closed his eyes, remembering Christine shouting those same words not more than a few hours ago as she stood frustrated on the Populaire's stage. He had heard her all too well.

_Oh no, Christine._ _That's not allowed. _He thought as he conjured up Christine's image just as he left her standing alone, angry and hurt. _I have treated you horribly. _

He took a deep breath and climbed back to his feet.

_But now it's decided. I will lay my claim, once and for all. _

_Christine Daaé, your Erik will not give you up. _

**END OF EPISODE 53**


	54. Episode 54: Mending

**A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir. **

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 54: Mending

By: Elektra

**Giry's Apartment**

Giry sat in her apartment writing notes for the ballet corps.Giselle had chosen to leave behind the Populaire due to various personal reasons: one of her students had been murdered, another kidnapped, and a third had been stalked and had her life threatened.

It had all been too much for Giselle to deal with and she had needed to extricate herself from the Populaire as soon as possible.

Firmin had called up Giry, begging her to replace Giselle on short notice. She gladly accepted.

Upon speaking to Meg, Giry had also agreed to let her daughter stay with the company rather than insist she return to school. Sorelli and Jammes had been made apprentices, and Christine… well, Christine was currently rehearsing the main role in the Populaire's upcoming opera. To return to school would have been a step back for all four girls.

Carlotta was nowhere to be seen.

Giry was startled from her thoughts as her cell phone began ringing. "Hello?" she answered quickly. "Nadir? What is wrong?" She waited as Nadir revealed what had happened the previous night.

"Oh… well…" Giry was unsure what to say. "Of course, I imagine he WOULD be upset about that. His view of his mother is not complementary, and to find that a friend is beginning a relationship with her… but who am I to judge? If you are happy, it is all well and good."

She waited for him to speak again. "No, Nadir, I have not seen Erik for a while now. Perhaps Christine will know where he is. I will get you the number."

She went through her phone book to find Meg and Christine's home phone number, but froze when she heard the other part of Nadir's story. "He wants to know about the Executioners?"

Giry took a deep breath. "I am not sure of them myself. His best bet would be to ask Leroux… though I don't think he's all that willing to give information." She frowned. "I wonder why Erik is curious about such things now. Ah well, if he comes to me, I will tell him you wish to speak to him. Ah, here is Christine's number: 555-4532. Yes… yes, you have a good day too, Nadir."

With that, Giry hung up. Perhaps there was no wonder about Erik's queries after all. Erik had mentioned on many occasions that he wanted to leave the _Executioner_ behind for Christine.

Perhaps this was his attempt to do so.

* * *

**Populaire – a week later**

Christine lay on the couch in the dressing room, an arm over her eyes.

One month. It had been one month since she had seen Erik. Her conversation with him on the darkened stage last week didn't count, as she had not actually laid her eyes upon him.

Was this it? Were they finished? The very thought of that brought a lump to her throat. In fact, it had caused her to miss several notes during rehearsal.

"You were off today," came a voice she knew all too well.

Christine immediately sat up and looked around the room. There was no one there. She glanced up and saw the grate in the ceiling, then frowned.

"Great," she muttered sarcastically. "The man I've memorized from top to bottom can't stand to let me _see_ him now."

There was a brief silence, then, "You've _memorized_ me?"

Christine blushed,then lay down again and turned to face the back of the couch. "Maybe."

"How could you stand to look close enough to _memorize_ me?" he asked.

She let out a harsh laugh. "You act like it was some terrible hardship."

"Was it not?"

"No, Erik. It wasn't. I actually LIKED paying attention to you, whether you want to believe that or not," Christine replied with a frown.

It was always the same argument.

Erik was not beautiful, but she had found the scars that marred his body and the blue-black lines that could be seen beneath his pale skin rather fascinating. How often had she traced each and every one with her kisses, only to drive him crazy with the intimate attention?

Christine continued to stare at the upholstery before her as she brought herself back to the present. Would she ever be able to do that again?

"If you don't want to be with me anymore, just tell me. Let me go live my life," she finally said, trying not to let her voice crack with the emotion weighing down on her.

"No," Erik replied.

Christine jumped up from the couch at the closeness of the voice, only to see Erik standing no more than three feet from her. "What do you mean _no_?"

He studied the girl before him, his tone growing dark. "I am not a very stable man, as you are aware. I _need_ you."

Christine frowned. "Sure, you say that now, but how long before you get all depressed and broody, and decide you need to _avoid _me again? I've had enough!" she snapped. "Don't you get it, Erik? I'm ready to just give up on us!" He remained silent. She went up to him and shoved at his chest. "Will you SAY something, damn it!"

"Do not _shove_ me, Christine…" Erik hissed, eyes narrowed.

"Why not?" she challenged. "This is the most reaction I've gotten out of you in four weeks!" She shoved at his chest again.

"Christine," he growled, grasping her wrists.

"Don't _Christine_ me!" she replied, yanking herself away. "Do you even _think_ of what your actions do to other people?"

"They obviously made _you_ very angry!" he snapped back.

"My anger is _justified_! How did you _expect_ me to react? You had no right to mess with my emotions like that! _I_ have _every_ reason to be-"

"Christine?"

"What, Erik?" she snapped, not appreciating being interrupted.

"May I kiss you?"

She looked at him in disbelief. "_Kiss me_? I'm busy yelling at you right now!"

"I know..." he replied. "I forgot how lovely you are when you're angry."

Christine continued to stare at him, dumbfounded. He took that as an answer, his strong bony fingers suddenly tangling into her hair as his mouth came down hard upon hers. "Forgive me..." he murmured through the kiss, "For everything..."

That was enough. Christine slowly splayed hands flat against his chest, unable to prevent her lips from parting and allowing the kiss more intimacy.

_I am already damned to hell. I should not drag her down with me…_ Erik thought as he slid his arms around her,_ but Christine Daaé is MINE, and I cannot give her up. _

"Chris- WOAH!"

Erik and Christine quickly jumped apart, their breathing harsh.

Meg stood in the doorway of the dressing room, staring at them. "Well… uh… don't let me interrupt you." She had the decency to look embarrassed.

"Meggy…" Christine stepped away from Erik, her back turned to him for a brief moment. "Um… Erik and I… er… we were just… talking…"

"_Talking_?" Meg repeated with a raised eyebrow. "Wow, Raoul and I must talk a lot then…" she joked. "Maybe I'll just leave you two alone to finish your… _talk_." With a wink, Meg headed back out of the dressing room.

Christine put her hands to her cheeks for a few moments and tried to calm the heat in her body, "Erik, I- " she turned to where Erik had once been, only to find he had disappeared once again. "Damn it!"

* * *

**Laramie Dr**

Shay fiddled with the rope in his hands, the last memento of his fake son, Adam. "You know, Ms. Robichaux, I used to be quite adept at using one of these," he said to Martine as he slid the loop around his wrist.

"You sound almost wistful, Sytri." Martine pointed out.

"Well, yes. Those were good times…" A shadow passed over his handsome face, indicating that the good times had ended in a rather unpleasant way.

"I wonder what Erik is up to," he spoke suddenly. "Surely his lovely little angel found witnessing his recent kill rather disturbing."

Martine nodded. "That she did. But it did not stop her feelings for him." Her eyes then fell upon the rope he was pulling tighter around his wrist. "Can you not do that?"

Shay slid it off his hand and around his neck. "Does it bother you?" he asked, then suddenly tugged it tight and lolled his head to the side as if he were dead. Martine turned on her heel in disgust and headed down the hall.

In a blur, Shay suddenly appeared in front of her, nearly causing her to crash into him. "You're not much for death, are you Ms. Robichaux?" he asked. "Oh sure, you can torment people until your heart's content, but you draw the line at murder." He chuckled at that. "I give you credit for showing more morals than my son."

"Leave me be, Sytri." She turned away from him, only to be stopped by a strong hand on her shoulder.

"Do you know that you are the only female I have been associated with that did NOT fall into my bed? That is rather impressive."

She frowned. "I am not so weak-willed."

"Of course not, but you are quite lovely. Smooth mocha skin." He slid his fingers down her cheek. "Dark eyes, thick auburn hair…" He smirked. "Not your natural colour, of course. It is supposed to be black as midnight, with lovely streaks of silver, no?"

Martine narrowed her eyes. "If you are attempting to seduce me, that is _not_ the way to go about it."

"How old are you? Forty-two? Forty three?" Shay asked. "Surely you are out of your thirties."

"Yes, Sytri – thank you so very much of reminding me of my mortality!"

"Ah, don't take offense, Martine. I am merely trying to say that you are like a fine wine – you only grow better with age."

"I don't believe I gave you permission to address me by my first name," Martine snapped.

Shay laughed at that."Oh, age has not withered your spunk. I'm sure you must have had many male admirers in your youth."

"If you're quite done telling me how old I am , there is something on television I want to watch!"

"What is my son doing now?" Shay asked suddenly.

"I don't have a hidden camera on him, I could not tell you."

"Oh, I'm sure you _could_," he said. "You see, he has managed to block ME from his mind, but I know _you_ have a way of keeping your eye on possible enemies. Surely you can tap into that and let me know?"

"I see no need to right now," she replied. "More than likely, the boy is sleeping. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm missing _Law and Order_."

With that, Martine continued down the hall and turned into the room she had taken for her own.

Shay watched her go. If it had been anyone else, he would have punished them for such a refusal. But he needed this woman. She was not someone to make an enemy of.

_Keep her on your good side…_ he told himself.

In the end, he would do with her what he pleased.

* * *

**Christine and Meg's apartment – late that night**

Christine's eyes opened slowly to fall upon a sleeping skeletal face framed by shoulder-length ebony hair.

For most, that would be cause for alarm, followed by a plea to wake up from a nightmare.

For Christine, however, she could only reach out and trace her fingers gently over the soft skin stretched taut before her. Was he really here, or was it a figment of her imagination brought on by the incident in the dressing room?

Raising her head ever so slightly, she barely touched her mouth to pliant lips, feeling a slight tickle of breath upon her skin.

Yes… Erik was real. He had somehow managed to sneak his way into her room without her knowledge. Not that she minded.

With a content sigh, she curled up against the unmoving body atop her blankets and closed her eyes to sleep again.

"Christine..." a silky voice breathed out her name.

"Hmmm?" she mumbled as she snuggled closer.

"I... I should not have stayed here," Erik's voice suddenly grew distressed, his comforting warmth quickly disappearing.

Christine sat up blinking, startled at the sudden movement. "Erik?" He pulled on his mask, looking ready to leap.

Throwing off her blankets, she practically jumped atop him, pinning him beneath her. "Don't go!" she insisted, then pressed her face against his shoulder. "Unless you were lying in the dressing room when you said you needed me?"

"Christine..." he slid his arms up around her.

She sniffled, fresh tears leaving dampness on his clothed shoulder. "We used to hang out, watch movies, play video games. I _liked_ having you beside me at night."

She clutched at him. "And singing! We haven't sung together in so long. My lessons. You forgot all about my lessons. I know you're still singing, Erik! I heard _CAM_ on the radio… but… you keep forgetting _me_."

Erik carefully changed their positions so he could look down at her. "I could never forget you." He wiped away her tears with gentle fingers. "Trust me on that."

Christine stared at him, her eyes red and puffy. "Fine. I'll trust you." She pushed herself to a sit. "I'm going to wash my face. I want you to be here when I return. If you're not, then I know that's it. That's the end. I refuse to play games!Be here when I get back. PROMISE me!"

He glanced at her, then looked away. "I promise."

With that, she rolled off the bed and headed to the washroom.

Erik tugged off his mask once again, followed by his boots and tear-soaked shirt, then rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes.

There was so much he wanted to do for Christine, so desperately he wanted to become what she deserved – and yet, all she ever asked was for him to simply _be_ with her. Singing, sleeping, talking. Such simple things he had not even realized he was denying her.

Did she really mean it when she said it would be over if he left?

No, he would not allow it. She was his and he would do what he had to_ keep _it that way. Christine was the only _normal_ thing in his life

But he still needed answers. He still needed to know if a normal life was even possible. Were there other executioners? And if so, were they like him - cold and emotionless when it came to the killing of others, yet passionate and intense when it came to their devotion to those they loved.

Erik suddenly froze as he felt a warm softness pressed against his scarred back, two slender arms wrapping around him.

"You kept your promise…" Christine spoke softly as she hugged him, then leaned forward to brush soft lips against his cheek. "I'm so glad…"

Erik reached behind him and slid his fingers through her soft hair. "I did promise," he replied, "Come now… sleep."

She nodded and the two of them made their way beneath the blankets to curl up together and sleep soundly.

* * *

**The next morning**

Erik woke up and reached out to find the bed empty beside him. He quickly sat up, "Christine!" He glanced around worriedly, then noticed the note left on Christine's pillow:

_Erik,_

_For the first time, I'M disappearing on YOU. _

I have good reason though - an early rehearsal this morning. I'm sure you'll be lurking around the theater like a good opera ghost, ready to carry the new diva away to his underground lair.

_Well, maybe not, but you know what today is._

_Love,_

_C. _

The note was finished off with a smudge of cherry lip gloss – a kiss.

He wasn't sure what Christine had meant in her last line. It was not her birthday, nor his… so _what_ then? He would find out tonight – though perhaps it would be better to spend time elsewhere to prevent disturbing Little Giry.

Perhaps her joke wasn't so far from the truth after all.

* * *

**Giry's Apartment – that afternoon**

Giry looked at the faxes before her. She had called on a few favours from some friends in Leroux's office, and this was the result - a run-down of the Guild's previous executioners.

_No, _she thought as she rifled through the papers desperately. Beside each name, there was a reason for termination.

It filled her with worry. Each and every one of them had fallen upon the same fate.

_Impossible! _Giry thought. _This cannot be. Surely there must have been one… one who did not end up this way. _

She read though the last page only to find the final name blacked out. Whoever it was had been the very first executioner. The reason for termination, however, left her cold: _Too dangerous_.

Giry shook her head. There were too many questions and not enough answers. She didn't like it.

In sixteen years, Anotinette Giry had grown fond of Erik. She did not want him to end up like the rest. She did not want him _caged_.

She would have to show Erik this information as soon as possible. Perhaps he could find these poor souls and figure out what had really happened to them. It would take much time and effort as there was little to no information on the previous executioners, or even if they were still alive.

Giry had faith, however. If anyone could find out the darkness that drove these men to become what they had become, it would be Erik. And perhaps once he had his answers, he could break the cycle and put all his energy into Christine.

She only hoped it was not already too late.

**END OF EPISODE 54 **


	55. Episode 55: The Others

**_A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir._**

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter  **

Episode 55: The Others

By: Elektra

Martine knelt in the middle of the chalk drawing on the floor in her darkened room. Shay had never seen this here, for she kept it covered with a throw rug.

It was necessary.

She picked up the candle beside her and lit it, then closed her eyes as she held it between her hands and began to chant.

This carried on for half-an-hour, until finally she was exhausted and the candle had burnt down to a nub.

Martine did not mind doing this every night. She had been doing it for the last several months, in fact.

It was what she had been hired for, after all.

* * *

**Giry's Apartment**

Erik looked down at the papers in his hands, a frown upon his lips as his eyes skimmed over the names of former executioners. "Is there any more information, Antoinette?"

"It was enough to get that list," Giry replied with a shrug.

Erik nodded. "I should start looking for them. Ask questions."

"Yes. But you do not need to do that today, do you?" Giry asked. "Meg was telling me she was spending the night at Raoul's house because Christine was expecting you would be with_ her_ tonight."

"But this is important for my _future_ with Christine," Erik insisted.

Giry raised an eyebrow, "And your _present _with Christine is not important?"

"That is not what I meant!" he snapped angrily.

Giry leaned against her couch and grew wistful. "I remember when Michel was still alive, the best times we had were _with_ each other. We went to movies, to the theater, on vacation. When Meg was born, we did more family oriented things.Yes, we worked hard long hours to make ends meet - to do _for_ each other - but it was the time together that mattered most. It is the same now with Firmin ."

She glanced over at Erik. "It is rare that a relationship works when one of the participants insists on keeping a distance, Erik."

"I don't need your lectures," he said, but there was no hostility in his voice. "I am still not used to someone actually wanting me around. Certainly not as much as _she _does. Usually my presence is _tolerated_, not encouraged."

"It is a nice feeling, isn't it?" Giry asked.

His voice was soft when he spoke next. "You have no idea." He glanced at the wall across from him, his eyes falling on the calendar pinned to it

"You seem perplexed," Giry said as she studied the tall man before her.

"Is there something special about today that I should know? Something regarding Christine and myself?"

Giry thought for a moment, then glanced over at the calendar herself. She smiled when she saw the date."Ahh ... yes. It was around this time last year, wasn't it?"

"Wasn't WHAT?" Erik asked.

"When the two of you became romantically entwined?"

"We have not been entwined in a mon-" He stopped. "Ahh, you mean... the start of our _relationship_?"

"Yes, Erik," Giry replied with a frown. "Your _other _entwinement I prefer not to know about."

"Forgive me. I did not mean to speak of it." He looked at Giry once more, "But... why does it matter that we became involved a year ago?"

Giry's eyes went wide, shocked that he had not thought of such a thing. "It is your one-year _anniversary_! Your relationship may have hit some turbulence recently, but such a thing is important to a young lady."

"Anniversary?" he mused. "Now that is one thing I never thought I would have."

* * *

**Beneath the Populaire - that evening**

Erik looked across the small table into Christine lovely blue eyes, then turned away to survey their current surroundings.

On a desk to the left sat his television and DVD player. His stereo and laptop were still in a box beside it. On the right sat an old fridge, a hotplate, and a microwave, with the bed in the corner and three cat baskets beside it (currently in use).

The furniture had been moved from his cellar beneath the Ravelle residence, and the washroom behind him had recently undergone new plumbing, unbeknownst to anyone except the managers.

The abandoned dorms below the theater proper were now Erik's new home, and the only thing that seemed out of place in this dark damp world was the beautiful girl who sat before him.

_I need to do better by her. As much as I prefer lurking in the darkness, hiding in cellars, I need somewhere that is NOT cold and dark. Somewhere she can visit without need for dusty props and stolen patio furniture._

_I can easily afford a house. A **nice** house. So why am I so reluctant to climb out of the dark? I promised her. _

"Forgive me," he finally spoke. "This anniversary dinner is not very romantic."

"Of course it is," Christine smiled. "You've got the candlelight and... erm ..." She looked around and bit her lip. "Well, there's the candlelight... and... well, you've got steak and potatoes!" she offered, indicating the Big Mac and fries in front of her.

"Oh, and fake wine, which is all good," she said as she held up her glass of grape juice. "I don't think I want to drink alcohol ever again."

"I know," he replied with a hint of a smile.

She studied him a moment. "Take off your mask, Erik. It's just us here."

He was about to protest, but realized it would be futile. He took a deep breath and slid the mask from his face.

"Better," she smiled. "Now all we need is music." She glanced longingly over at the unpacked stereo.

The music began almost magically.

Christine looked back at where Erik was sitting and realized he had picked up his violin, the bow sliding over the strings slowly, long fingers pressing upon the neck to bring forth a soft gentle sound.

He looked at her, played the first few sections, and finally began to sing: "_I close my eyes the moment I surrender to you. Let love be blind, innocent and tenderly true. So lead me through tonight..._"

"Erik..." Christine mouthed, unable to take her eyes from the man before her as he continued to sing.

When he finally finished, she moved over to him and slid into his lap, hugging him as she pressed her cheek against his. "Beautiful..."she whispered hoarsely. "So beautiful..."

"It is not one of my songs," he answered as he laid the instrument in its case on the floor before bringing his arms up around her.

"I don't care. It was still beautiful." She tightened her arms around him. "I wish we could do this more often. Just us. I don't care if we're only eating fast food and drinking grape juice." She met his eyes. "And I prefer you without the mask..."

"Why?" he asked softly.

"Because I don't like it when you hide from me," she answered.

"I could never deny you anything, beloved," Erik replied as he began to nuzzle her neck, his mouth sliding gently over her pulse before trailing up to her sweet mouth, her lips parting eagerly.

With a soft little sound, she slid her fingers into his hair, her nails pressing against his scalp as the kiss grew more intense, her body shuddering as his hands slid beneath her shirt, fingers trailing their way up her sides and down her spine.

Christine broke the kiss and let out a startled gasp as Erik tightened one arm around her waist and slid another beneath her legs, lifting her up as he pushed to his feet. "Erik? Where are you-"

"Time for bed..." he whispered softly as his lips brushed over her ear.

Nothing more needed to be said.

* * *

**287 Corner St**

Giry looked at the clean-shaven well-kempt man who opened the door, then glanced down at the list in her hand.

"Are you Darin Ulren?" She asked.

"He was my father. I'm David." The man answered.

"Oh... forgive me. I was looking for Darin ."

"He passed on last year," David replied. "May I ask why you were looking for him?"

"I was an associate of his, Antoinette Giry. Please, may I come in? I would very much like to know about him."

David shrugged but invited Giry in regardless. "Not much to tell," he said as he offered her a chair in the living room and sat across from her. "He was ill, and he died."

"Ill how?"

"I'd rather not say, Madame," David answered.

"I must ask - did your father ever speak of an _Executioner_ before he passed?" she asked.

David narrowed his eyes. "What game are you playing here?

"Does that mean 'yes'?"

"My dad talked about a lot of things that didn't make sense. We believe he was showing signs of dementia."

"Did he speak of demons?" Giry asked. "Or vampires?"

David stood up abruptly. "I think I'd like it if you left now!"

"Please, tell me what happened." She begged.

"My dad was a crazy old man who hung himself from the rafters! Left a note saying it was time for HIS execution. Does that answer your question? _Leave_!"

Giry stood up with a deep breath. "I'm sorry for your loss. Thank you." She then turned her back on the man and headed out the door.

* * *

**Laramie Dr**

Shay lay down upon his bed and looked up at the ceiling with a sigh. He was feeling tired. He wasn't sure why, but he realized it had started the night Erik had pushed him out of his mind when he had been trying to glean images of Christine from him.

It still surprised him. How had his son been able to do that? Was the boy becoming more powerful? Did he have more of Shay's strength in him than originally thought?

He closed his eyes and tried to reach into Erik's mind, but he found himself unable to find it. Surely the boy couldn't repel him so easily... could he?

When had this happened?

Shay could not even ask Martine about his shift in power, for it would mean admitting his weakness, and he was not about to do that.

_He may have pushed me away once, but next time I will be better prepared. It is this mortal form that is tired, not ME. Perhaps I should get more sleep._

Shay closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall into a blissful dream state.

His son would not overpower him again.

* * *

**Preston Hospital for the Criminally Insane- Two days later**

Erik stepped carefully into the padded cell currently holding the man he needed to speak with. The man was tied up in a straightjacket and looked ready to run and hide- as if there was a place to hide in such a room.

Cowering in a corner, Jon studied the masked man carefully, not quite sure what to make of him.

"I would like to talk to you about your life as an executioner," Erik began unemotionally.

"No no... not me... wasn't me..." he muttered quietly, shaking his head. "Wasn't me... wasn't."

"Are you Jon Goren ?"

"Was... once... but... not the Executioner... not... not always... not near the end..."

"You were a former hit man hired by one Gus Leroux to deal with certain people, were you not?" Erik pointed out, ignoring the man's denials.

Jon nodded. "Maybe. Maybe once. Killed the ones I was told to kill. The ones they couldn't stop." He paused, "Until _he_ took over."

"_Who_?" Erik asked suspiciously.

"_Him_!" Jon answered as if that simple word should explain it. "He took over. Made me hurt innocents. Liked the pain. Liked the control. He was the first. He wanted his job back!"

"The first _what_?" Erik asked.

"The first one! Before me... before any of us. When the Guild started. The FIRST one!" he insisted. "He hated them! Said they turned on him," Jon leaned forward as if informing Erik of a secret. "They sent him back eventually, you know. He didn't want to go back."

Jon's eyes suddenly grew wide. "But he returned! A few years ago," he then glanced around fearfully. "He won't find me though... won't take control again. I'm hiding. Hiding so he can't get me... good place to hide...here... they're hiding me."

Erik was growing impatient. "Who is this man? Is there a name? A description?"

"Evil eyes!" Jon informed Erik. "Cold, demon eyes! Every night! They haunt me _every night_." Jon stepped closer to Erik, then screamed and stumbled back, hitting the padded wall. "No! Get away! Get AWAY from me!"

"I assure you I mean you no harm!" Erik was quickly losing patience.

The man began to hit his head against the white padded wall. "Go away! GO AWAY GO AWAY!" he screeched out, pounding his head harder and faster.

The door to the cell was immediately opened by two guards and Erik was asked, not the least bit politely, to leave lest Goren continue to cause himself bodily harm.

Erik protested. He didn't have his answers yet. At least, nothing that made any sense. The guards didn't seem to care and were not above grabbing him to toss him out.

Erik knew if they tried, he would instinctively fight back and things would end badly. He reluctantly left Jon Goren's cell as the guards attempted to calm the unstable man and stop his current head-bashing.

There was only one thing Erik was sure of - he could NOT let himself end up like that.

Ever.

**END OF EPISODE 55 **

* * *

**_Extra A/N: The song Erik sings to Christine is "Every Time I Look at You" by Il Divo . _**

****


	56. Episode 56: Confessions

**_As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir. _**

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter  **

Episode 56: Confessions 

By: Elektra 

Erik placed the blueprints on the desk before him. "This is what I plan for the property," he said. "I wish for these renovations to be underway as soon as possible." 

"You understand we can't give you an exact time frame," Gerry Bartlet answered as he skimmed over the designs, doing everything he could to avoid staring at the man before him. 

Bartlet had had several strange clients in the past, but this one took the cake. Not only did the man wear a mask covering all but his mouth, but the skin that Bartlet _could_see was inhumanly pale. Did this man live in a cave? 

Not that it mattered, of course. Mr. Erik Garner was putting forth a considerable sum of money for Bartlet's crew to redesign an old house he had bought. He had even created his own designs. 

Gerry expected them to be ugly and impossible, but yet Garner seemed to have great skill in the area. His designs were wonderful. 

Bartlet thought over the name. He had heard it before in his various elite circles: Erik Garner. Yes, now he remembered. The man had a reputation as a most innovative architect and designer and would often be paid quite well for his work. 

Bartlet briefly wondered if the man would work on a few projects freelance for him. He would ask Mr. Garner after the man's house was finished, lest their business dealings go sour. 

"I understand such things cannot be done overnight," Erik replied. "But I will be checking on the crew's progress periodically." 

Bartlet nodded. "Yes sir." He reached across the table to shake the man's hand, but the gesture was ignored and Bartlet brought his hand back to his side. "Yes... well ... hopefully we'll live up to your expectations." 

Erik narrowed his eyes, his next words leaving Gerry cold. "You had better." He then stood up. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have an opera to attend."

* * *

**Populaire - Box 5**

Erik sat in his usual spot as he waited for the curtain to rise on Christine's opening night on stage. Though she had only been meant as a temporary replacement for Carlotta, it seemed the ill-tempered diva had not bothered to return, thus Christine was thrust into the spotlight in her stead. 

Christine had been so nervous that her body had threatened the need to _spew_ - as she had so colourfully put it. 

Her supper, however, managed to remain in her stomach and she was able to calm herself somewhat after a cup of soothing mint tea and, to Erik's embarrassment an all-encompassing hug that she claimed she needed in the very public dressing room. 

If it somehow helped her performance, however, so be it. Erik would be sure to grab the papers tomorrow to see what reviews Christine was given. He expected them to be positive. 

If not... well... unsigned letters could be written to shake a few people up. The fact Christine would never want him to take such action was moot. 

The audience grew silent as the curtain rose and the opera began. 

Erik frowned as he watched what took place before him, appalled with the various talents - or lack thereof - Firmin and André had hired for the production. 

Some chorus members truly needed to be sacked as they seemed to lack a little something called pitch. Not to mention that a few members of the ballet corps kept losing step - although Erik was pleased to see Little Giry shining through it all. 

And the orchestra truly was no better. The first bassoon needed to be replaced as soon as possible - preferably one who could play in tune - and the third trombone seemed to be tone deaf at times. 

Letters would have to be written tonight to be placed upon Firmin and André's desks in the morning. 

Perhaps he could demand his first 'paycheck' from the DeChagny boy after he suggested the aforementioned changes - they did have an agreement after all - and there was little doubt that Erik's suggestions would be taken seriously if the managers valued their profits. 

As Erik went over in his head how he would word the letters, Christine made her first appearance. All other thoughts fled as he was hypnotized not only by how beautiful she _looked_ onstage, but by how beautiful she _sounded_. 

"Oh, Christine..." he whispered to himself, unable to tear his eyes away. 

He could think of nothing else until the performance ended.

* * *

**Backstage**

Christine finally made her way backstage after three curtain calls and a standing ovation. She was greeted with applause from her fellow cast mates and the stage crew, causing her to blush a flattering shade of red at all the attention. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw alone shadow leaning against the wall fiddling uncomfortably with a single red rose and attempting to look as invisible as possible. 

Losing all grace she had had while she was on the stage, Christine ran to the shadow and threw herself into his arms. 

Though he was startled at the sudden blur of blond, Erik still caught her easily. Christine then gave him a kiss that would have been saved for a private moment had she not been on an adrenaline rush and grateful beyond words for all that he had done to get her this far. 

"Christine!" Erik gasped when she finally pulled away, his golden eyes shifting nervously beneath his white mask as he took in the group before him. 

"Sorry," she offered sheepishly. "Couldn't be helped." She then smiled. "Did I embarrass you?" 

"I... no... it is just..." He glanced around again. "I did not want to draw attention to myself." 

Christine brushed off his concern. "If I can perform an entire opera in a theatre full of _two-thousand_ people, you can be kissed in the middle of a dressing room filled with _thirty_ people." 

Erik placed Christine back down on her feet. "For you." He handed her the rose and she accepted it gladly before heading into the dressing room to change.

* * *

**Laramie Drive**

Martine sat before Shay as she handed him a sheet of paper. "You wanted to know what your son's been up to lately, here you go. I wrote a list." 

Shay read through the list, commenting on everything he read. "Boring... boring... glad he's getting some again... boring... oh, what's this now?" He read the information closer. "So, he's curious about the Executioners? No doubt he wants to be a good boy still, despite the fact he killed someone a little less than two months ago. He's like a ping pong ball, my son - back and forth." 

"You could just tell him what _you_ know," Martine pointed out. 

"And what could I possibly know about the Guild and their Executioners, Ms. Robichaux?" Shay asked. 

"Don't play innocent. We both know better." 

Shay leaned back and sighed. "Perhaps I should do something about his curiosity, hmm?" 

Martine raised an eyebrow. "I don't expect you intend to kill him." 

"No. Of course not. But as of late, he's begun to fear death. Perhaps he just needs to be frightened a little..."

* * *

**Clark and Orian - a week later**

"What's the deal here, officer?" Lt. Samuels asked as he walked towards the man currently kneeling beside an unmoving form. 

"Waiting for the medical examiner, sir," he replied. "This guy looks like he's been gone for a while... except he doesn't _smell_ like it. I can't figure it out." 

"Any noticeable injuries?" 

"Gunshot wound to the shoulder, through and through." The officer seemed perplexed for a moment. "I don't see how he would have lost enough blood to kill him, but..." He indicated the skeletal face, the skin so pale that it appeared almost blue from the veins beneath the epidermis, and the noticeable lack of a proper nose. "He's not in about to get up and walk either." 

Lt. Samuels looked at the body and furrowed his brow until the realization hit him. He had seen something similar several years ago - a fifteen year old boy that looked like a living corpse. 

That boy would be the same age as this man by now. 

"Check his pulse." 

"Sir?" the officer asked. "He's dead. I mean... look at him." 

"Check his pulse!" Samuels ordered again. 

Wincing at the thought of touching a corpse, the officer did as he was ordered. "Geez! He IS alive! But..." 

"Get an ambulance here asap. And check for a wallet or some form of ID." 

The officer nodded and did so. An ambulance came a few minutes later.

* * *

**McNeil Memorial Hospital - two hours later**

Christine ran to the nurses' station the moment she arrived. "Could you please tell me what room Erik Garner is in?" 

"Sorry, ma'am," Lt. Samuels stepped forward and took in the girl before him. "Are you Christine? I'm the one who called you." He held his hand out. "Lt. Samuels. Your name was at the top of Mr. Garner's cell phone list." 

"Is Erik ok?" she asked nervously as she shook the man's hand. 

"Yes, he seems to be doing well, though he's frightening my officers." 

"Yeah ... he does that." Christine offered a small smile. "Can I see him now?" 

The Lieutenant took out a paper and pen. "May I ask about the nature of your relationship with Mr. Garner?" 

"He's my boyfriend," Christine offered. 

Samuels studied the beautiful blond girl. "You're kidding me." 

Christine frowned, growing annoyed. "No. Can I see him, please!" 

Samuels blinked. "Uh...right... sure... it's just..." He shook his head and scratched down the information. "Room 4636." 

Saying nothing more, Christine rushed off.

* * *

**Room 4636**

"Erik!" Christine ran to the man sitting on his bed, currently flanked by two officers. She bit her lip when she saw his right arm and shoulder wrapped up in a sling. "What happened?" 

Before he spoke, he reached out and slid his uninjured arm around Christine's waist, pulling her closer and burying his face against her neck. She was surprised by his public display of affection, until he spoke. 

"I don't suppose you have a mask in your purse?" he asked. 

"Ummm... well, no." 

"Do you mind if I stay like this then? I seem to have lost mine." 

Christine smiled and ran a hand through his ebony hair. "Not a problem." The two officers seemed relieved as well. 

"Now sir, you were saying your assailant came out of the alley as you were making your way home?" One of the officers asked. 

"Yes. I did not get a good look at him." Erik replied, his voice muffled against Christine's neck. "As you can tell, I wear a mask for a reason. He took it from me, along with my wallet." 

"Are you ok!" Christine worried. 

"As well as I ever am." 

Christine looked at the officers. "Can we be alone for a bit?" 

The two officers glanced back and forth, then shrugged and headed out. Left alone with Erik, 

Christine turned her attention to him. "Ok, since when do you let a mugger get the best of you?" 

"It was not a mugger, of course. It was a creature I sensed. When I went to confront it, it had a weapon." 

"Wait, it was out in the daytime?" 

"Oh, they can go out in the day, they just choose not to because they cannot take direct sunlight. It was hiding in the shadows. And of all things, I did not think it would have a gun." 

"I'm guessing that's really unusual," Christine replied. 

"Yes. No doubt it had a purpose. It did not kill me, but it knew what it was doing." 

"And... it took your wallet?" she asked. 

"I passed out briefly. I'm guessing a beggar took the wallet, as well as the mask." He took a deep breath, and winced. "Of course, a mugging is a far more plausible excuse for the police." 

"Is the hospital going to let you go tonight?" she asked. 

"I am being kept over for observation," he replied. 

"I'll stay too then. Day off tomorrow." 

"As you wish, beloved. Though could you do me a favour? Ask the nurse for some extra gauze. I have no way of getting hold of a mask right now." He looked up at her, "I would like to grab something to eat in the cafeteria without fear of causing some seriously ill person a heart attack." 

"You're ok to get up and walk around?" 

"I am on some lovely pills at the moment that make my shoulder feel quite numb. I shall be fine." 

Christine gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and headed out to get what he needed.

* * *

**The next morning**

Erik woke up slowly, his eyes falling upon the girl who was using his good shoulder as a pillow. "Christine..." he whispered, nudging her a little. "Wake up, beloved." 

Christine winced as she sat up, "This bed was not made for two people." 

"It is barely big enough for one," Erik muttered as he pushed himself upright. 

Christine rubbed her stiff neck. "You get to go home today. Or rather, you get to go home with _me_." 

Erik rolled his good shoulder to work out the tightness, then reached up to check the gauze covering all of his face save his mouth. "Why would I need to go home with you?" 

"So I can take care of you," she replied simply. "I mean, your shoulder is going to be out of action for a bit, so..." She shrugged. "I'll help you out." 

"And you thought of this as you were sleeping?" he asked. 

"Yeah... well... no, about two seconds ago," she answered sheepishly. 

"I do not think Little Giry would want my company for an extended period again." He then frowned. "And the thought of sleeping on that pull-out bed does not agree with my back." 

"Well, _I_ have a double bed... and it's pretty comfy... and that one _is_ made for two. We used to sleep together all the time." She then blushed. "I mean, _sleep _sleep... you know, when we actually _sleep_." 

Erik chuckled at her uncomfortable phrasing. "Yes, but again, would Little Giry want me there constantly?" 

Christine looked up and met his eyes. "I'll call her and check, but you DID save her life. I know she's grateful." She hugged his good arm. "Let me take care of you until your shoulder is better, ok? Then you can go back to your cave." 

Erik lowered his head to brush his lips over hers, the kiss lingering for several moments before he pulled away. 

She blinked up at him. "What was that for?" 

He rested his forehead against hers, his fingers playing with a lone golden curl. "For caring so much. I have never had that before." He slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug, mindful of his injured shoulder as he rested his chin atop her head. 

"Erik?" another voice spoke. 

Erik immediately let goof Christine and turned to glare at the two who had entered the room. "What do you want?" he growled as Nadir and Madeline walked in hesitantly. 

Christine furrowed her brow when she saw the two of them holding hands. She then glanced back at Erik and realized the reason he was now as frigid as ice. 

"I thought you might need a lift," Nadir answered. 

Before Erik could protest, Christine spoke up. "He's coming to my place for a bit. We should get some of his stuff and drop it off before we come back for him." 

Erik turned back to her, "Chris-" 

She silenced him with a quick kiss. "We'll be back! Your mom can stay here and keep you company." 

She quickly headed over to Nadir and led him out of the room before Erik could stop either of them, leaving Madeline alone with her son. 

As the two hurried down the hall, Nadir glanced back at her. "I will never know how you can get away with angering him like that." 

She chuckled. "Let's just say I'm good at the kissing and making up part." 

"No doubt," Nadir replied with a smile. "So, did he tell you what happened to his shoulder? Because I doubt he's going to tell _me_." 

Christine reiterated what Erik had told her. 

Nadir nodded in response, surprised as Erik was that one of Them would think to carry a weapon. Surely someone had told it to do so. 

It was a matter better left for later as a more immediate concern came to mind. "Do you think it was wise to leave Madeline alone with him?" 

"I guess we'll find out when we come back."

* * *

**Room 4636**

"How are you feeling?" Madeline asked softly as she took the guest chair in Erik's room and brought it closer to his bed. 

He would not look at her. 

"Erik? Please, don't be angry." Erik remained silent. "You have _your_ lover, don't deny me _mine_." 

"You've had _many_ lovers, Madeline." Erik replied coldly. "Though I give you credit this time - at least Nadir will not impregnate you with some demon spawn." 

She winced noticeably at the comment. "You were the best and worst thing that ever happened to me," Madeline replied. 

He scoffed at that. 

She glanced down at her hands. "_Worst_ because I didn't know what to do with you. I didn't know how to be a mother, especially to a little boy who was... well... not exactly _normal_." She swallowed hard, "And the _best_ because...because you kept me alive." 

"Is that so?" he asked unemotionally. 

"Erik - I may not have treated you right, but I could never bring myself to abandon you either." She took a deep breath and continued. "I wanted to kill myself. Did you know that? But every time I thought about it, there was always that one question lingering that stopped me - who's going to take care of Erik if I'm gone? I saw that as a burden, but looking back on it, I realized it was a blessing." 

He let out a snort. "So when you told me I was a freak... God's greatest joke... you meant that as a blessing?" 

"No, Erik. It..." he ran a shaking hand through her hair. "Listen, when they took me off to jail, all I could think of was where _you_ were. If someone was taking care of _you_. And when I finally got out, I wanted to find you, but no one would tell me. No one at social services wanted a convicted felon to be anywhere near a child." 

She shook her head. "I wanted my baby back. I missed you. I didn't realize... I didn't KNOW how much I loved you. Yes, I was scared of you, but I _loved_ you, Erik. And I STILL love you." 

Erik's eyes grew dark, anger simmering beneath the surface. "You tell me this NOW, Madeline? Over twenty years _later_?" 

"I know!" Madeline replied. "You think I don't regret it every day? It's MY fault it took three decades for you to realize that someone _could_ love you. That a girl, after knowing you for only two years, could admit what _I_ never could." She closed her eyes. "I don't blame you for hating me." 

The room was silent for several moments, until Erik finally replied. "I don't hate you." 

"What?" Madeline asked. 

"You are my _mother_." Erik explained. "And I am not a monster who feels _nothing_ for that." He glanced away. "I may not _like _you, Madeline... but that does not mean I don't _love_ you." 

Madeline put a hand to her chest, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "Erik..." 

"Why would I have carried the anger with me all these years?" Erik continued, still unable to look at her. "I loved you unconditionally. No matter what you did, no matter how you treated me, I still loved you." 

"I... I don't know what to say..." Madeline sobbed. 

Erik met her eyes. "I would not have been so upset to see you with Nadir if you had meant _nothing_ to me, mother." 

He then studied the wall across from him. "I will not deny you your happiness. But do not think I can so easily accept the situation. To see how you openly care for Nadir when you could never openly care for _me _leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. If that is immature and selfish, so be it. Perhaps, in time, things will change. I make no promises." 

Madeline slowly reached forward, desperately wanting to hug her son... until a high pitched ring stopped her in her tracks. 

Erik, not realizing what she had meant to do, quickly grabbed his cell phone off the table. "Yes?" He waited. "Ah, the masks are in the top drawer of my dresser along with my socks. Pack a plain white one, and two of the decorated ones... yes... the one you made with the black and red, that is fine. And Christine... can you bring Isis and her family? They should be no trouble to transport, they are used to it... thank you, beloved. I will see you later." 

Erik hung up the phone and placed it by his bedside again. Madeline simply sat back and placed her hands in her lap nervously. The moment was gone. 

She could hug him now...but she couldn't find the courage again. 

The two sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes, until Madeline spoke again. "So, Christine made you a mask?" 

"Several, actually," Erik answered. "Very nice ones, in fact." 

She glanced down at her lap, wringing her hands in her skirt. "That's one of the things you condemn ME for." 

Erik let out a harsh laugh. "Christine made the masksfor _my_ comfort, not for _hers_. She thought soft cotton would be far more bearable than stiff leather." 

There was silence a Madeline considered his words, then a growing concern when she finally spoke. "Does she expect you to wear one when you're in bed?" 

Erik glared at her. "How DARE you?" 

"I'm not asking to be vulgar. I just wonder if there was an ulterior motive. I would hate to think-" 

"Suspicious woman, aren't you?" Erik interrupted angrily. "To accuse _her_ of such a thing?" He leaned towards Madeline, his golden eyes flashing with rage. "We are NOT having this conversation! You would do well not to speak so flippantly about Christine in my presence. You are the _last_ person to question a woman's motives!" 

"Oh look! You two are talking... really loudly..." a voice spoke up from the doorway. Madeline and Erik turned to see Christine standing there staring at them. 

"You... heard?" Erik asked. 

Christine shrugged. "Your voice carries. Especially when you're pissed. I think the nurses at the station even heard." 

Erik turned away ashamed. "Forgive me... I... did not realize..." 

Christine shrugged. "I've got nothing to hide." She walked in and sat on Erik's bed, taking his hand. "Masks aren't allowed when we're alone, Madeline. It's my one and only rule. No need to worry about my intentions." 

Erik scoffed. "She was not _worried_. She was _curious_." 

"No. She was worried." Christine replied. Erik opened his mouth to deny it once again, but Christine quickly put a finger to his lips. Nadir is waiting for us in the car with your stuff - and your cats. Let's get you out of here and go home." 

Erik saw no need to protest. 

**END OF EPISODE 56**


	57. Episode 57: Resignation

**_A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir._**

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

**Episode 57: Resignation**

By: Elektra

"What, exactly, was the point of ordering one of your lackeys to shoot your son?" Martine Robichaux asked Shay as she sat on the other side of his desk in the study.

Shay laughed."I did not need to _order_ anything. I simply took control of the body on my own." He sighed wistfully. "I have not done that in awhile. It was fun possessing another for a few enjoyable moments." Shay then frowned. "Until Erik dusted it."

"And what happened to Erik afterwards?"

Shay shrugged. "I do not know. I only shot the boy in the shoulder - or rather, made that THING shoot him - I am sure he survived. Now if you do not mind, Ms. Robichaux, I am rather busy. Please see yourself out of my study."

Martine studied him and frowned. He was sure something was crossing her mind at that moment, but she did not share what. Instead, she stood up and left him to his thoughts.

In truth, the little experiment he had conducted was to make sure his powers were not completely failing him. He had "borrowed" the creature to do his bidding, controlling Its lesser mind to see if he was still capable of such a thing.

His experiment had proved successful.

Though, while Shay still had the power to see into another's mind and, to some extent, control it, he was growing increasingly weak as far as his physical prowess was concerned.

Why? It was enough he seemed to be losing control with the boy - he had chalked that up to the belief that perhaps Erik was growing stronger - but to physically feel as he did was a mystery. There should be no reason for it.

And what if he had tried to control a mind that was a little more complex than an un-dead creature? What if he had tried to control a _human_ mind? Would he even be able to do such a thing anymore? He was starting to wonder now.

There was only one way to find out. He would have to "borrow" a human and see.

But who?

A smile crossed Shay's lips as the answer came to him.

He would "borrow" the one person who could possibly bring his son back to him.

* * *

**Christine's and Meg's apartment**

Erik stood before his suitcase in Christine's room. Feeling a desperate need to shower and change into a fresh pair of clothing, he reached in with his good arm to pull out a shirt and trousers. He headed to the washroom and Christine followed behind with towels and washcloths.

"Here, let me help you ... " she said as she reached up and assisted his arm out of the sling, then grasped the hem of his shirt to raise it up over his head. He winced at the movement, but knew that it would have been worse if he'd had to do it himself.

Christine then reached for the buttons on his trousers and Erik quickly grabbed her wrist. "I believe I can take it from here."

She looked up at him with a pout. "You've never minded _before_."

Erik leaned down to meet her eyes. "Beloved, those were vastly different circumstances." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I am quite capable of showering by myself tonight."

"What if you need help?" she asked worriedly.

"I will leave the door unlocked and call you."

Christine was still hesitant, but soon nodded and headed out to allow him privacy.

* * *

**Christine and Meg's kitchen - 2am**

"Hey there... I thought I heard someone out here..."

Erik glanced up from the tea he was steeping to see Meg coming out of her bedroom. "You have company tonight," he said, nodding towards the lumpy blanket he could see through her doorway.

"Yeah," Meg smiled shyly. "Raoul and I have gotten pretty close." She was silent for a few moments. "Um... I haven't seen you in a while," she continued as she leaned back against the counter a few feet from him. "I... I just wanted to thank you... for saving my life."

"You are welcome." He glanced away. "Christine informed me she told you about the Executioner."

"Yeah... well... she... she figured, after what happened... " She fidgeted nervously.

"You look uncomfortable, Little Giry." He coolly took a sip of his tea. "If you do not want me here, I will leave in the morning. I can understand how my presence would be unsettling."

"Chrissy really wants you here." Meg offered a small smile. "She likes playing nursemaid."

"I do not want you ill at ease in your own home."

She shook her head. "No, it's ok. Really." She smiled. "I mean, if Chrissy is letting Raoul stay here a few nights a week, it's only fair for you too."

He studied her for a moment, unsure. "If you say so." He finished his tea, then washed the mug out quickly. "Good night, Little Giry."

"G'night, Erik," she replied, then pushed away from the counter and headed back into her room.

Erik watched Meg as she closed the door. The sound of Raoul's voice, followed by a lock clicking into place did not go unnoticed by his alert ears.

He did not blame them for it.

With a deep breath, Erik turned around and headed back to Christine's room.

* * *

**The Next Morning**

"I just can't get away from you, can I?" Raoul DeChagny asked as Erik took a seat at the breakfast table.

"I heard you causing Little Giry distress last night after her and I parted ways in the kitchen." Erik commented.

Raoul frowned. "I didn't cause Meggy ANY distress. We were-"

"Truly, DeChagny, I do not wish to be appraised of your personal business with Antoinette's daughter. It disturbs me."

"_You're_ the one who brought it up!" Raoul snapped.

Erik's black cotton mask crinkled as he furrowed his brow beneath it. "Tell me - exactly how did you and Little Giry grow so close so quickly?"

Raoul looked at his bowl of Fruit Loops. "It wasn't _quickly_. It was building for a while. Once you ... " he tried to find the right word, "... _disposed _of Adam, it eased the weight on our shoulders and it just... happened." He glanced back at Erik. "I thought you didn't want to know?"

"_Details_ I do not want to know. But I AM curious as to this sudden change in your relationship. What are your intentions towards her?" Erik narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "I DO hope it is more than _physical_."

Raoul's eyes went wide as he stared at the man across the table. "When did _you_ become her protective older brother?"

Erik scoffed. "I never said I was. But I owe her mother much and I feel it's my duty to protect the girl."

Raoul raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "So are you going to drag me into the air ducts and get me to piss my pants?" he asked.

Erik smirked coldly. "Ah, she told you about my _chat_ with her LAST lover."

"She did. And I stand by the fact that you're a creepy bastard." He added more milk to his cereal. "And yes, Erik, it's a lot more than physical. I LIKE Meg. Very much."

"And where is Little Giry now?" Erik asked.

"Still sleeping. She was _tired_," Raoul answered. "I should ask about _Christine_."

"Still sleeping... " Erik glanced away, somewhat embarrassed. "She was tired as well."

"Oh please! You've only got one good arm!" Raoul pointed out Erik's sling. Erik remained silent. The handsome blonde man seemed confused, until the realization hit him. "That would mean-" he stopped and shuddered violently and returned to his cereal.

After a few moments, he slowly looked back up at Erik, his voice growing quieter. "Chrissy and me... we... we _never_ got that close. Just so you know. I ... I didn't want you to think-"

"I know," Erik interrupted shortly.

Raoul nodded quickly, "Right, right. Of course. I mean... it... it would've been impossible NOT to." He stopped when he saw Erik's golden eyes narrow into slits, his hand clenching into a fist. "I'm shutting up now."

"Please _do_," Erik replied icily.

After a few more minutes of awkward silence, however, Raoul spoke again. "So what's going on at the Populaire? I've been told there are some changes to the musicians, dancers, and chorus members."

"For the better, I assure you," Erik answered, glad for the change in topic. "The chorus sounds much clearer, the corps de ballet is in step as they should be, and the orchestra keeps in tune. The theatre has received much positive publicity lately as well, especially in regards to the Populaire's new diva. She has received rather rave reviews."

Raoul nodded. "I wouldn't have expected any less. You've taught her well." He leaned back in his chair and studied the man before him. "I'll give you this much - you seemed to be exactly what Christine - and the Populaire - needed."

Erik glanced at Raoul, surprised by his words, then quickly looked back to his bacon and eggs. He offered a curt nod of thanks to the younger man before finishing the food before him.

* * *

**A week later**

The next week saw the arrival of Madame Giry to the apartment, and a lack of need for Erik's sling, though his shoulder was still quite tender.

"Well? What's this now?" Erik asked as he sat with Giry on the couch.

She handed him a folder. "I told him you didn't want it, but he insisted I give it to you anyway,"

Erik opened the folder and skimmed over the papers. "No," he said. "I will not do it."

Giry nodded. "Might I suggest, then, that you take it to Gus and let him know first hand? He didn't seem to take MY word for it."

"I will do that right now," he answered. He put the folder down and pulled his duster on carefully before heading to the door. "Tell Christine where I am, will you?"

"Of course," Giry replied, and Erik headed out.

* * *

**Guild HQ**

"In case you did not get the memo, I am _quitting_ as the Executioner." Erik said as stormed into the Guild Director's office and threw his special assignment on Gus Leroux's desk.

"Oh? There was a memo?" Leroux asked as he looked up at Erik from his chair.

Erik narrowed his eyes. "Surely Antoinette's mentioned it."

"It's that _Catherine_, isn't it?" Leroux stated.

"Her name is _Christine,_" Erik answered. "And my hands are stained enough as it is. I will not soak them with fresh blood!"

Leroux sighed as he came around his desk and leaned against it. "All this for some little girl who took pity on you."

"She did not take _pity_ on me!" Erik hissed.

"How do you know?" he asked. "No doubt she saw your face and felt bad for you."

Erik was on Leroux in a flash, hands slamming down on the mahogany desk as he blocked the short portly man in, ignoring the pain shooting through his shoulder.

"You know NOTHING of her!" he hissed. "You are to look for another Executioner effective immediately. I refuse all special assignments from here on in." He pushed away and turned on his heel, heading to the door.

"And what if she leaves you?" Leroux called out as he collected himself once again. "Who are you going to take it out on? Some poor passer-by?"

Erik froze, his back still to Leroux. "She will not leave me."

Leroux sighed. "You think a beautiful twenty-one year old girl would want to spend the rest of her life with a violent monster ten years her senior?"

"She will NOT leave me!" Erik snarled, his fist implanting itself in the wall beside the door.

There was silence for a moment. When Leroux spoke again, his voice was soft. "You're too much like your father. Though I give you credit for not going on a mindless killing spree. Yet."

Erik's eyes shifted to the hole he had made. He slowly slid his hand out and calmly brushed off the drywall. "What do you know of my father?"

"More than _you_, Erik. Perhaps if you do this assignment," he indicated the folder still on the table. "I'll tell you a bit more about him."

Erik let out a harsh laugh. "I will not be victim to such manipulation."

"Ahh, right. I forgot. _You're_ the one who likes to do the manipulating."

Ignoring the comment, Erik glanced back to Leroux. "Gus, I have officially made my resignation as Executioner. Should you need a _Hunter_, however, then I will still be available. Goodbye." He turned to the door again.

"Do you honestly think that girl can tame you?" Leroux asked. "Because the hole in my wall says otherwise."

"I will tame _myself_!"

"That's all very romantic, Erik... but what will happen when SHE is the one to raise your ire? No relationship is perfect, after all. One day, the monster will break free from the man it was pretending to be. Why, you might even _hurt_ her."

Erik stormed towards Leroux, grabbing the man angrily by the collar. "I will NEVER hurt Christine!" he growled, wanting to squeeze until Leroux was well and truly passed out.

_... the monster will break free from the man it was pretending to be... _

Erik immediately let go, taking a slow deep breath as he collected his thoughts and calmed his temper.

He coolly brushed his hair out of his eyes and spoke again, his voice low. "I may be a monster to _you_, but things are different with _Christine_."

Without another word, Erik quickly headed out the door, leaving a wheezing Leroux staring after him.

* * *

**Christine and Meg's apartment - later**

Christine watched Erik from her bed as he quietly entered her room. She glanced over at the clock on her nightstand. He had been gone several hours. She had wondered if he had disappeared once again.

But no. Here he was, whipping off his mask and shirt as if the fabric had personally offended him. He then yanked loose the buckles on his boots and kicked them off angrily.

It didn't take much to realize he was in one of his moods again.

"Erik?" she called softly.

Her breath caught when he turned to her, the low-wattage lamp on the other side of the room doing nothing to hide the dark anger simmering in those golden eyes.

She knew this anger was not aimed at her, however, and pushed off her sheets to hold her arms out to him. "What's wrong?"

Erik said nothing as he stalked towards her, pressing her down onto the mattress before sliding himself atop her and burrowing his face against her neck.

He did nothing more.

Christine slid her arms and legs around him, attempting her best to embrace the man who was twice her size. His breathing was harsh, his hard lean body tight with tension.

"Leroux upset you," she noted as her fingers slid into his hair and gently massaged his scalp. "Madame told me you went and told him you quit as Executioner. What happened?"

"We had words... " he growled against her neck.

"I was worried when you didn't come back."

"I needed to ease my temper."

"It didn't work," she pointed out.

"I did not stay out long enough," he answered tersely, but she could feel the tension in his body slowly easing as she continued the scalp massage.

"No, you stayed out _too_ long," she replied, "You just let it stew and made it worse. NOW you're starting to calm down."

He raised his head and met her eyes. "Do you enjoy contradicting me?"

"Yes. Haven't you figured that out yet?"

He brought his face back to her neck. "I do not _like_ it!" he hissed.

"You'd like it less if I _didn't_ contradict you."

She was right, of course. But he was far too stubborn to admit that.

"At least I am not a monster to _you_," Erik muttered.

Christine frowned. "Is that what Leroux called you?" Erik didn't answer. "I don't know the man, but from what Madame told me, he seems to be like that. He probably didn't want to look for a new Executioner, so he figured he'd piss you off and get you to change your mind."

She took a deep breath and pressed her cheek against his. "But yeah, you're just _Erik _to me. And _Erik_ defies description."

Erik raised his head for only a second before his mouth suddenly demanded hers, surprising Christine with the intensity. She couldn't help but release a soft whimper from her throat as his fingers slid beneath her shirt and reminded her how well those graceful hands knew her body.

He quickly broke the kiss, attempting to catch his breath.

"Um... _wow_... "Christine gasped. "That was... unexpected... "

"I am still rather... _tense_... from my conversation with the portly bastard." He closed his eyes, "Forgive me. I need to find a better outlet."

Christine grasped his arms before he could slide off her. "No you don't."

"Angel, I cannot expect you to-"

"Yes you can," she insisted.

He frowned. "You are contradicting me again!"

"No I'm not."

"Christine... " he warned.

"Hey... _you're _the one who started with the wandering hands and the tonsil hockey! I wasn't exactly _unaffected_ by that, you know!"

Erik found himself at a loss for words. He had planned to go outside and Hunt some unlucky creature in an attempt to work off his tension, but-

"It'll be therapeutic," Christine offered. "It helps release endorphins and stuff."

Erik studied the lovely girl beneath him for a moment, then did something he had not done since he sent Grandma Giry into Raoul DeChagny's room that fateful Christmas Eve.

Erik burst out laughing.

"I'm serious!" Christine pouted, but he paid no heed. "Stop laughing! You're _creepy_ when you laugh!"

He shook his head, "It is just... you talk about it so _innocently_... " Erik quickly sobered when he felt her hands slide over his backside, making it clear she was quite serious - and not so innocent. His voice dropped to a low growl. "Oh, Christine... "

_Therapeutic indeed!_

* * *

**Populaire - A week later**

Erik took his place in Box 5 as he waited for Christine to take the stage. He had returned to his underground home - no longer an invalid with a weak shoulder - and had since made it a habit of catching as many of Christine's performances as possible, offering tips and suggestions where he thought she could improve.

Though he missed being at her side every night - spending only a few precious evenings together when she was not expected at the Populaire the next morning - it would have to be the way of things until his _surprise_ was ready. A few more months now, he had been told. And he fully expected the construction crew to stick to that timetable. If not, a disaster beyond their imaginations would occur.

The overture began and Erik immediately focused his attention to the stage. Once again, he was pleased to see Christine give a rave-worthy performance - though was that a noticeable breath she took between notes? He would have to work on that with her. The audience should never hear the diva breathing heavily.

His thoughts were interrupted as the lights in the theatre began to flicker. Faintly at first, then more deliberately still, until finally the entire building was plunged into darkness.

A scream was heard through the sound system, and Erik knew Christine was in trouble. He raced out of Box 5 and ran to the stage - no doubt he was the only one who could actually see where he was going at the moment.

When the lights came back up, the audience was stunned into silence as the entire cast was laid out unconscious.

But something was missing among the unmoving figures. Something was wrong.

The Populaire's newest diva was nowhere to be found.

**END OF EPISODE 57**


	58. Episode 58: Free

**_A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir. And much thanks to Gondolier for her little plot bunny._**

* * *

**Erik: The Vampire Hunter **

Episode 58: Free

By: Elektra

**Manager's Office**

"Where is she!" Erik demanded as he burst into André and Firmin's office. Not bothering to see who else was in the room, he grabbed the nearest manager by the shirt, shaking him with purpose. "Where is CHRISTINE?"

"Erik! Please… calm down!" Giry spoke up as she came to Firmin's aid. "He had nothing to do with this."

Erik's golden eyes narrowed as he glared at the man in his clutches. "So help me, if something has happened to her…"

"Erik…" He felt a strong hand on his shoulder and turned to see Nadir, who had just entered the room. "Let Richard be."

Erik let go of Firmin and turned his rage on Nadir. "What are YOU doing here?"

"Maddy wanted to see the opera. Specifically, Christine's performance," Nadir answered. It was only then Erik noticed Madeline hovering nervously by the doorway.

"Honestly, Erik," Firmin began cautiously, rubbing his tender neck. "We thought it was YOU who took her from the stage for some rendezvous. It was quite theatrical."

He quickly backed away as Erik focused his anger on him again. "But of course, it _wasn't _you."

Erik swore under his breath and quickly spun on his heel and headed out of the office, brushing past Madeline as if she were not there.

"Where's he going?" Madeline asked.

"I do not know," Nadir said, "but it might be wise to follow him."

* * *

**Laramie Drive**

Christine glared at the man leaning against the wall in front of her. "Let me go!" she demanded.

"Don't you like it?" Shay asked, gesturing around the small bedroom that surrounded them. "Do you know how expensive this bedroom set was?" He ran his fingers over the dark cherry vanity, polished to perfection. "It's Louis-Phillipe!"

Christine did not seem interested. "Why did you bring me here?"

Shay shrugged. "Why indeed? You're the only one who can bring my boy back to me." His golden eyes caught her lovely blue ones. "You WILL bring him back to me…" he commanded.

Christine remained unaffected. "I don't think so."

Shay seemed taken aback by the blatant refusal. "Yes you will!"

"No I won't! Deal with it!" Christine frowned and moved to sit upon the bed, ignoring him.

Shay attempted another tactic. "Tsk tsk. You're not being very grateful. Here I've given you this lovely new room, and you look upon me as if I'm dirt on your Sketchers!" Shay stepped a few feet away. "Perhaps THIS form is more appealing?"

Christine glanced back at Shay and froze, eyes wide.

Shay's cheeks became thin, almost skeletal. His nose seemed to recede until it was nothing but a hole, his eyes sunk deeper into his head and his already pale skin grew even paler, revealing blue-black lines beneath the surface.

Last but not least, his ebony hair grew a few inches longer, until it brushed past his shoulders.

He smirked coldly. "Surprised? I can take many forms. I really DO look like my son now, don't I?" he asked, then studied her a moment. "Ah, you're wondering if this is my true form. Well, it's not. And thank goodness for that."

He slid on the bed beside Christine and she immediately jumped to her feet and headed to the opposite side of the room.

He pouted, feigning disappointment. "Oh, Miss Daaé… such cruel rejection! And here I thought you would find me far more attractive now, what with your taste in men leaning towards the morbid."

"You're _sick_!" Christine snapped.

Shay laughed heartily at that. "This from the woman who allows a living corpse to pollute her body on a regular basis. Oh really, my dear. Your hypocrisy astounds me."

Christine turned away from him, unable to stare any longer at the creature pretending to be Erik. "Change back," she demanded softly, hugging herself tightly.

"Surely you don't find your lover's appearance upsetting, do you? Because from what I have seen in my son's mind, you seem to _enjoy_ him."

"You wouldn't understand…" Christine replied quietly.

"Let's see now." Shay narrowed his eyes, concentrating on the girl before him. "You don't find him _attractive_ in the conventional sense, but you do find him _appealing_. Or perhaps _fascinating_ would be a better word. He is a freak, but he is _your_ freak, is that it?"

Christine let out a startled shout as Shay appeared only inches from her, returned once more to his handsome self. "My son's 'freakishness' _excites_ you, doesn't it Miss Daaé?"

Christine narrowed her eyes. "I refuse to talk about our relationship with a _monster_ like you!" She walked away from him once again.

"Oh, you don't have to _talk_. I can glean what information I want from your pretty little head."

Shay grabbed Christine's arm and spun her around to face him once again, grasping her chin in strong fingers to force her to look up at him. "I can see all those sickening emotion he stirs in you. It is enough to make me retch! I'm _far_ more interested in the way his hands caress you in all the right places. How he drives you wild when he kisses every last inch of your body."

Shay then let out a laugh. "Oh, how patient you were with him in the beginning. I mean, all that awkward fumbling before he finally figured out how to make you-"

"SHUT UP!" Christine interrupted as she desperately attempted to pull away from him, a wave of nausea threatening to overtake her.

Shay's grip was unyielding. He smirked coldly. "Shame on you, Christine. Playing Miss Innocent when you let him do such naughty things!"

He leaned in closer, lowering his face to allow his lips to hover mere inches from hers. "I assure you, little one, I can make you forget him so very easily. You will even wonder why you ever wanted him in the first place."

Christine's eyes grew wide, a paralyzing fear pressing down on her. Shay seemed intent on something, his eyes showing a great attempt at concentration. Christine was beginning to get a headache, but she would not yield to whatever trick he was trying to play on her mind.

"You're only _human_!" he spat. "Why is this so DIFFICULT?"

"Sytri…" A calm female voice interrupted the conversation.

Shay turned to see Martine standing in the doorway of the little room. "Is there a reason for this interruption, Ms. Robichaux?" he snapped in frustrated anger.

"You would better spend your time preparing for your future guests rather than taunting a little girl," Martine answered with disapproval.

"I suppose you have a point," Shay replied. He glanced back at Christine. "We will finish our _chat_ later."

Martine watched as he brushed past her and headed down the hall, then turned to see the girl fall to her knees and sob as she covered her mouth with shaking hands.

"You find Sytri repulsive, don't you?" Martine asked. "We are agreed on that." She studied the girl for a few moments, then spoke again, her voice gentler then it had ever been. "You care for his son deeply."

"Shay doesn't get it," Christine responded softly.

"Of course not. A creature like Sytri cannot understand that your _physical _relationship is only in direct response to your _emotional_ relationship."

"Erik is nothing like his father. Thank God."

"He is and he isn't." Martine leaned against the doorframe. "Your lover was called a demon child when he was little, Miss Daaé."

Before Christine could ask how she knew, Martine continued. "And while that was a cruelty brought about by those who had the misfortune of seeing him unmasked, it was closer to the truth than you think."

"What are you saying?" Christine asked suspiciously.

"I am saying your lover is human only as far as his _mother_ is human. Sytri is another story altogether. Haven't you figured it out yet?" she asked.

Martine didn't wait for an answer as she slipped out of the room and shut the door, a lock clicking into place before Christine heard the woman's shoes clacking down the hall.

* * *

**Beneath the Populaire**

Nadir sighed as he watched Erik rip apart his home in a rage. "Is destroying things the only way you can think to channel your anger, Erik?"

Erik glared at the man a few feet from him. "You did not have to follow me!" he hissed.

Erik knew there was a far more positive way to channel his energy - if only he knew who had taken Christine. Oh yes… he would certainly channel his destructive energy on THAT person.

About to overturn another table, Erik stopped when he saw the small white iPod sitting beside his computer.

He remembered Christine bringing it down to him no more than two days earlier, excited to show him her first 'big' purchase with the salary she had received from the Populaire. He recalled how thrilled she was to be making far more than minimum wage and able to afford a purchase like this once in a while.

He had asked Christine to leave the iPod with him. He had planned to upload a special song – a _Cam_ exclusive, he had said. A song he had written for her and her alone.

He had finished it last night.

Erik grabbed the little white device and turned it on.

"Is that yours?" Nadir asked as he glanced over Erik's shoulder. Erik said nothing as he skipped through the photos Christine had uploaded to her new toy: Christine smiling with her friends, in rehearsal, and…

Erik pulled the iPod out of Nadir's view as he stared at the last picture. It was a picture of himself, simply entitled 'My Erik'.

He remembered when Christine had taken this picture, catching him by surprise as he had stepped out of the bathroom with naught but a bathtowel wrapped about his waist, his long wet hair hiding his hideousness as he scrubbed at the ebony locks with a smaller towel.

Save for his usual death-like pallor, he could have easily been mistaken for-

"Shay!"

Nadir blinked at Erik's sudden outburst. "Pardon?"

Erik turned off the iPod and grabbed his duster, checking to make sure his rope was in his pocket.

Nadir followed quickly as Erik rushed out into the night.

* * *

**Laramie Dr. **

Shay was waiting for his visitor the moment he arrived.

"What, no hug for daddy?" Shay asked, holding his arms wide as Erik broke down the front door.

The younger man swung a wide roundhouse at his father's head, catching Shay across the temple. Shay blinked away the cobwebs and regained his composure. "Naughty boy. Christine was nicer, you know."

Erik narrowed his eyes, anger burning through his very body. "Where is she?" he demanded "So help me, if you have TOUCHED her-"

"Well, I have not had a chance to _touch_ her yet, but I'll take care of that when we're done here."

"No you won't!" Erik sent hard kick to Shay's crotch, sending him reeling back against the wall and doubling over momentarily.

Before Erik could take advantage, however, Shay's leg swung out and flipped his son to the ground. "That HURT!" he hissed before dropping a knee into Erik's stomach. "And trust me, there is a LOT to hurt, boy!"

Erik was only briefly aware of three more people entering the home through the broken door. Nadir, Firmin, and Giry.

The group was quickly set upon by the few creatures still under Shay's control but he was far too focused on the man before him to care.

The masked hunter sent a heart punch square into Shay's chest, knocking the wind out of the creature's very body. It allowed Erik to land three more blows to his father.

A rush of anger filled Shay's very being, his golden eyes almost glowing as he swung a fist up, catching Erik with an uppercut that sent a tiny spray of blood across the floor and knocked the mask from his face.

Before Erik could gather his thoughts - or his mask - Shay caught him with Adam's rope, pulling tightly as he purposely choked the life out of his son. "Do as I say, son. Do not make this difficult!"

Erik's vision began to blur as he saw Nadir, Firmin and Giry fighting off their mindless opponents with great effort, the lone female of the group putting her cane to good use.

"Don't you know about the _first _Executioner, Erik?" Shay asked as he relaxed the rope ever so slightly. "Or perhaps Gus felt no need to share that with you."

Before Erik could respond, images suddenly formed before his eyes and assaulted his senses:

**_Three decades ago_**

_A restless demon sat upon a stone throne surrounded by fire, the stench of brimstone almost suffocating. _

_This was Sytri: a lesser Prince of Hell and commander of several legions. _

_He was bored. So very bored. He had heard about the world above, wanted to see it for himself. He ordered one of his subordinates to take control of what little armies he owned, and dared to invoke the wrath of a being far more powerful than himself as he forced his way up and out of his little corner of Hell._

_Such a grand time he had in the world above, finding females who would lay with him upon first glance of the beautiful human form he had fashioned for himself._

_But he was still bored. _

_Walking alone one night, however, he came upon the strangest creatures indeed. Similar to demons like himself, but yet only able to sustain their selves by feeding upon those who dwelled in this world - the weaker humans._

_One silly creature had mistaken him for one of those humans and had attempted to attack. Sytri fought and destroyed it easily while a small group of men armed with sharp wooden weapons watched on in wonder._

_One particular man came up to him afterwards - a portly fellow this one was, known to his fellow officers as Gus - and asked Sytri if he would like to aid this group in the future. _

_Interested in the possibilities, Sytri joined them. The blind fools had no idea whom or WHAT they had invited into their little group._

_Sytri cared not. _

_He spent much time with these humans, fighting the creatures that preyed on their species. Soon the group found some of their **own** kind just as evil, if not worse, than the creatures who fed upon them. _

_By this time, Sytri had acquired a rope, though it was not just any rope. It was made of catgut, coiled thin and tight. He used it to great extent, killing… or as the humans preferred to call it - **executing** - those that could not be defeated any other way._

_Fascinating, the art of death and the surge it sent through Sytri's body when he looked upon his morbid canvas. _

_Perhaps he was too long in human form, for he was starting to develop sensations he had not had before. He grew drunk on the screams of his victims, enjoyed using the female body far more than he had previous, and simply began to LIVE as he had not done in his own world._

_But his hunger for violence, his thirst for blood, soon became too much for the little group of Hunters to handle. The portly leader had asked him why... why he killed those that had not needed to be killed. _

_Oh yes... there were some that could have been dealt with in a different way. Some whose powers could have been taken easily without harm._

_And there were some that had nothing to do with any of it. Some that looked at Sytri the wrong way, or had raised his ire in some form or another. _

_He was becoming too dangerous for the Guild - yes, that is what they called themselves now: The Hunter's Guild._

_He was relieved of his duties, asked to 'go away', in as many words. Thus, he did, and found solace in yet another female body. One that he returned to continuously. This one was named Madeline._

_And she became pregnant with his child._

_Procreating was not something his kind was usually capable of, but it had been known to happen on occasion. An unnatural accident, for lack of a better term. Not impossible, but hardly probable, else Sytri would have had hundreds of bastard children littered about the human world._

_Certainly this child would be special._

_Meanwhile, the Hunters had found themselves another Executioner - a hired hit-man known for working with the mafia. He would only kill those he was hired to kill without worry for innocents._

_But Sytri still wanted a taste of death and was determined to get it - even if he had to use another's mind to do it. _

_He possessed this hit-man's very soul and led him on a glorious killing spree._

_The Hunters had to lock the man up._

_With his body no longer accessible to Sytri, the demon attempted to find another, for watching others kill at his whim had excited him far more than killing with his own two hands. _

_Before he could carry out his search, however, Madeline gave birth to his child. _

_An ugly thing, this atrocity she called Erik. He appeared as Death itself: a living, breathing child-corpse - an unfortunate side effect of breeding with a lowly human._

_But perhaps Sytri could use him regardless._

_Unfortunately, it was not meant to be. The Hunters found Sytri — their numbers having increased exponentially now. They knew he was behind their new Executioner's mindless killing spree._

_Thus, they sent Sytri back where he came from. _

_Oh it was quite a battle indeed, old magick against demonic will. But in the end, Sytri's strength was taken and he succumbed to their attack, returning back to the world underground, surrounded once again by fire and brimstone._

_Sytri swore he would be back. And this time, he would be far more powerful than he was before. This time, he would not let the Hunters return him home. _

_And this time, he would find his child and teach the boy to follow in his footsteps._

"But that didn't happen, did it?" Shay spoke, pulling Erik out of the strange waking dream he was in. "No, you wanted to be 'good'. You let your useless human heart take control. How very disappointing."

He yanked the rope harder, until a sharp burning pain swept through his arm.

Shay looked to see Erik had pulled a stake out of his coat and impaled it through his bicept. The demon quickly let go of the rope and yanked the wood out.

"Now now, son, that was hardly nice! You're like your mother, you know. Sneaky little bitch, she was. If I had raised you, things would have been different. Shame I was sent back only moments after I saw your ugly little face."

Erik stumbled back and pulled the rope over his head, throwing it to the floor as he coughed violently, gasping in the oxygen denied him.

"I saw you in the hospital nursery, you know." Shay continued as he watched Erik attempt to regulate his breathing once more. "I wanted to take you then, but the Guild had come for me."

He tossed the stake to the floor, dark thick blood blossoming on the sleeve of his shirt. "I took a few of them out before they could finally rid themselves of me. I really did not LIKE being sent back." He smirked coldly. "Luckily, I have friends in high– or rather, _low_ – places and was able to return. But… alas… many years later. Time means nothing down there. It's like one very long day. One very long BORING-"

His words were cut off as Erik's rope found Shay's neck. "Where is Christine?"

"One track mind…" Shay choked out. "She's unmolested… so far," he coughed as Erik tightened the lasso, falling to his knees, eyes wide. "What… what's … happening? I… I should be able to… to break… free…"

Shay glanced off to the side, only to see Martine chanting something under her breath. He let out a harsh laugh. "Is that it then?" he asked. "And here… here I thought… my boy was… was getting _stronger_…"

Martine met Shay's eyes, her chanting growing louder.

He glanced back at Erik and smiled weakly. "It… it was her. All this time… and I… didn't… didn't even know."

Martine smirked as she watched Shay suffering before her very eyes. "Sytri can now be killed as all mortals can. Do what you wish with him."

Erik focused his attention on Shay, a chilling smile appearing on his pale lips, his skeletal face almost joyful.

He was about to snap the demon's neck when three gunshots suddenly rang out, splitting the air.

Shay looked down at his shirt and noticed the blood blossoming upon the cloth – darker than red, but not quite black.

Blood that did not belong to anything human.

Shay looked up slowly. "I didn't think you had it in you, Madeline…"

All eyes turned to the shaking woman several feet away standing behind Nadir. She held a smoking gun in her trembling hands.

"MADDY! Why aren't you in the car?" Nadir asked. "Where did you-" he stopped and quickly pushed back his coat only to find his holster empty.

"Did I ever tell you, Nadir," Madeline interrupted, "that I was a pickpocket? It was on my long list of crimes."

"I remember now… " Shay said weakly. "You once took my wallet… I… I never forgave you for…" unable to speak any longer, he fell face down, a dark pool of liquid forming beneath him.

Erik did not move for a moment. When he gathered his wits once again, he slowly slid his rope from Shay's neck.

"Why, Madeline?" Erik demanded. "I was in control of the situation!"

Madeline slowly lowered the gun. "I know, but I couldn't… couldn't let you live with killing your own father…" The weapon clattered to the ground. "One thing I could do for you. For… my son…"

She then swayed unsteadily, the reality of what she had just done hitting her, sending her body into emotional shock.

A criminal she may have been, but Madeline Renau had never once taken a life.

Nadir's arms quickly shot out and caught the woman before she fell.

Erik was the first, and only, one to speak. "Then… it's over…"

* * *

**The Louis-Phillipe Room**

"Erik!" Christine cried out as the door to her comfortable jail opened to reveal a somewhat damaged Erik.

She ran to him and he quickly wrapped his arms around her, lifting the shaking girl off the floor easily as he held her tight. She clutched at him and allowed her emotions to take over, relieved that it was him and not some sick apparition brought about by Shay's power.

Christine desperately kissed every inch of Erik's horrid face, ignoring the tang of blood from his obvious injuries. She was only grateful that he was alive and well.

"He is gone, Christine," Erik told her. "My father will never bother us again."

Christine met his eyes and saw the truth in them. This led to a rather emotionally charged kiss upon his bruised mouth. He didn't seem to mind the pain.

"Wait… that lady. Martine? Where is she?"

Erik seemed perplexed, "I do not know. I haven't seen her since Shay was killed."

Christine nodded, "Let's get out of here."

"Of course," he answered, but instead of placing Christine back on her feet, he scooped her legs up with his other arm.

"I'm ok. I can walk," she informed him.

"I know," he answered as he cradled her against his chest, not wanting to let go unless he absolutely had to. She gave in and rested her head against his shoulder as he headed down the hall.

His mind closed to everything but Christine, it was her soft little voice in his ear that surprised him. "Yes…"

Erik looked at the girl in his arms. "Pardon?"

"That's my answer. Yes."

Erik furrowed his brow. "What was the question?"

She smiled softly as she reached up to tuck a long lock of hair behind his ear. "The one you asked me our first night together, when you were all emotional and weepy afterwards."

_Erik buried his face against Christine's neck and silently let the tears fall. The feel of her warm softness beneath him, surrounding him, his body still very much alive with the sensations of what had just passed between them, felt like nothing less than heaven. _

_That he could not bear to lose her was without question, but now, tonight, he knew he could not live without her._

_"Marry me?" He begged. "Please… Christine. Be my wife? Take your poor Erik for a husband? Be his soul?" He raised his head and met her eyes, seeing the surprise and disbelief in them._

_"E-Erik…I…" She could not find the words. _

_He allowed a gentle smile. "Feel free to answer any time within the next seventy years."_

Erik studied Christine now, her eyes clear and sure. Those eyes said far more than he dreamed possible.

Erik swallowed hard, not wanting to lose his composure in front of Giry and Firmin, who now joined his side along with Nadir, currently carrying an unconscious Madeline – much like Erik was carrying Christine.

Firmin looked at the two men on either side of him, then glanced at Giry. "I don't think my back is strong enough to lift you, my dear…"

Giry raised an eyebrow. "My cane will find your skull if you try!"

"Such a pleasant way with words. That is why I love you, Antoinette." Firmin answered, settling for slipping an arm about Giry's shoulders instead. He was surprised he didn't get scolded for attempting even that small act of affection in front of others.

But like the rest, Giry was far too exhausted to care.

**END OF EPISODE 58**

* * *

_**A/N: The end is near...**_


	59. Episode 59: The End

**_A/N:As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir. _**

* * *

**Erik: the Vampire Hunter **

Episode 59: The End

By: Elektra

Dear Diary,

It's been forever since I've written in here. I blame technology and my online blog for that, but there are some things I just can't write about online, some things that are too private for other people to see.

Still, I need to get it out somehow.

So much has happened this past year.

I guess I'll start with the night Shay stopped being a threat to us. What to say about him? He was apparently some crazy demon guy (_I'm writing that so easily. If someone told me about demons and monsters a few years ago, I wouldn't have believed any of it_).

When we got home that night, I tended to Erik's injuries. WhenI was done, I told him I needed to go back up and grab my stuff from the dressing room since Shay had taken me right off the stage - I was currently wearing a lovely medieval peasant's dress, complete with an uncomfortable corset underneath (_the wardrobe department's attempt at giving me cleavage I don't normally have_).

I saw Erik taking something out of a drawer and placing it in his pocket. I couldn't see what it was, but he walked up to me and asked me if I had meant it.

He was talking about me saying 'yes' when we were leaving Laramie Drive. It was an answer to a question he had asked me a long time ago – to marry him.

The first time he had asked, I was taken aback. Maybe I was just afraid to answer, to make another major decision after I had just made one not more than a few minutes ago in his bed.

But now I could look at him, my poor unhappy Erik, and tell him the answer was _yes_.

Erik fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around my waist. He promised he would be a good husband. That he'd never give me cause for regret. That he'd always be my Erik.

I never doubted it.

When Erik took that elegant little ring out of his pocket (_a simple band embedded with tiny diamonds_) I just became a big blubbering mass of girly-ness – runny nose, red eyes, tears running down my face, and all that emotional stuff. My hands were shaking when he put the ring on my finger. So were his. He even dropped it once.

The plan to go back upstairs and get my clothes was soon forgotten, neither of us wanting to separate at the moment. Being that we were both exhausted from what had happened earlier, though, we curled up in his bed and slept - not that we wouldn't have done something else had we the energy.

Wow… writing that made me blush.

I'm not the kind of girl that talks about intimate stuff to other people… but since no one is going to read this but me, I might as well write about how it took us a while to figure everything out in the beginning. I remember Erik actually doing research after the first time: reading books, checking the internet. I even caught him reading something Nadir had given him.

His enthusiasm scared me a little, only because I had never stopped to realize the obvious - my poor Erik had all these needs and desires running through his body for years and had never been able to act on them. And to think, he waited until _I _was ready. I'm pretty sure _he_ had been ready for years. For all Erik's abnormalities, that's something he seems to have an abundance of energy for. (_I think he inherited that from his father, but I would never hold it against him – I benefit too_).

But I'm not about to share these details with the girls at the Populaire. I'm not like Meg - she loves to share her private business with Raoul. She sits around with Sorelli and Jammes to compare notes. I, on the other hand, refuse to say anything about Erik and myself. It's just too private.

Unfortunately, _Shay_ knew. It was embarrassing and made me feel sick to hear him talk about things that are so private. He had taken all those memories from Erik's head a while back and felt the need to share it with me the night he stole me from the stage.

He may have known my physical relationship with Erik, but he never understood the emotional one. If it hadn't been for Martine Robichaux, he might have tried to do some of the things he saw in Erik's head, thinking I'd react the same way.

She was another mystery all together. We found out later – after everything was over – that Martine had actually been hired by Gus Leroux, the head of the Hunter's guild. Or rather, that Leroux had offered the better deal compared to Shay, who arrogantly thought she'd be thrilled just to work for him.

As Leroux explained it later, he hired her to take Shay's strength from him bit by bit, day by day. It went on for many months.

In the end, it took her mystical skills (_he had tried to take control of my mind, but he had been too weak by then_), Erik's physical ability to beat almost anyone in a fight, and Madeline's thieving of Nadir's gun. Without all three, that… thing…would still be walking around. I mean, Erik can put up a heck of a fight, but he doesn't have super-powers.

Erik told me Shay revealed himself to be the first Executioner. Gus had already known he was dangerous, that's why he had to resort to letting the other Hunters think Martine was an enemy. Shay had to drop his guard around her.

Well, I guess it worked. Erik actually had a bit of respect for Leroux resorting to something so sneaky, but he was pretty angry about being left in the dark about Shay's history with the Guild, especially in relation to his own. Since then, Erik has permanently given up being the Executioner.

Words can't express how grateful I am for that. Whether he realizes it or not, his mother had a lot to do with it. I think her actions finally freed Erik from whatever was holding him to his father - and spared him from the blood of another death.

Poor Madeline was a mess for a while, but I think she's ok now. She's had some great counselling from the Guild's psychiatrists and has gone on to marry Nadir – much to Erik's chagrin. It was a simple wedding, nothing too grand or glitzy. Just a small ceremony with a nice rented hall for the reception. They're currently off enjoying a honeymoon cruise.

Erik's relationship with his mom is a bit better than it was. Well, it's _civil_ at least, but I doubt they'll be going on a mother/son picnic any time soon.

As far as everything else goes, it's been quiet here. We still have the usual run-of-the-mill dead things roaming about that need taking care of (_I swear, those creatures keep multiplying like rabbits_), but Erik and the other Hunters deal with them easily enough and we've been able to move on with our lives.

Speaking of which - a few months ago, Erik took me to see a house. I wasn't sure who lived there, but it was beautiful. The grounds were spacious and well kept. Yes, there were neighbours, but enough space between this house and theirs to allow privacy.

While he led me up that driveway, he told me the house was no more than twenty minutes from the Populaire by car – and showed me the new car in the garage.

OUR garage … with OUR car … in OUR house!

I was speechless.

Even though we didn't have a date for the wedding (_and still don't_), he wanted me to move in with him. He didn't think the abandoned dormitories beneath the Populaire would be a suitable future home – obviously - so he bought the house as a surprise for me and had it renovated and redesigned to his specifics.

I was worried about leaving Meg in the lurch paying full rent for the apartment, but I soon learned that Raoul was looking to move out of the DeChagny Estate.

He was more than happy to move in with Meg.

In this new home I have with Erik, there's even a room where we can sing together, hang out and read, or just play video games - the kind of stuff we enjoy doing with one another.

Erik still releases music as the anonymous _Cam_ and receives royalty checks, as well as his usual architecture and design jobs, and I'm getting several lead roles at the Populaire. We can more than afford the upkeep of this house.

I was worried about that two months ago.

Carlotta had come back and demanded her old position, as well as special treatment – as if she was doing a favour for André and Firmin by blessing them with her return.

But the 'opera ghost' scared her away soon enough and things returned to normal.

…until I made the mistake of bringing up children to Erik.

What an argument that was! Our worst ever, I think.

Erik blew up. He didn't want to take a chance that a child would be born like him. He reminded me that he was not even fully human, that he looked like a corpse. It was unfair to ever inflict that on a new life.

It drove me to tears.

Erik disappeared into the basement to brood and play that god awful organ he purchased. I remember hearing it through the floors that evening. It was a frightening, angry sound.

That night, though, he finally came to our room. It was three o'clock in the morning.

He reiterated the fact that he did not want a biological child - there was too much of a chance the poor thing would inherit his less desirable traits - but he would be willing to adopt a child in the future if I truly wanted to have one.

I understood.

Looking into Erik's eyes, seeing his face for what it was, as much as _I_ loved him, loved that skeletal face, that pale scarred body – I finally understood.

Society had never – WOULD never – accept Erik. I had no right to selfishly want a child to share his fate.

So it was decided. If … when… the time came where we both felt the need to extend our family, we would adopt. And to prevent any accidents, Erik planned to take a surgical step to insure no child would ever be born of his genes.

The doctor found out, however, that Mother Nature had already taken care of that for him.

Erik was so relieved that he took me straight to bed the moment we got home from the medical clinic and promised me that when the time came – if we were both ready – we would find a child to raise as our own.

… and that brings us to the here and now.

We've been happily engaged for almost a year now, and I have a promising career ahead of me. We're certainly not ready for children yet.

I'm going to keep my maiden name for the stage. Erik is fine with that since I've been using it all this time. Neither of us wants to risk changing it in case it has a negative effect on my profession (_and I don't have the patience to go through all my legal documents and change them either. Stuff like that takes forever_).

What does the future hold for us? Who knows? All I can do is see where things lead one day at a time.

Erik and I both have our good days and our bad days, our arguments and our agreements, but we're content and happy - we have a roof over our heads, food on our table, and tentative plans for the wedding and our future.

Considering what Erik's night job entails, I'm sure there will always be unforeseen surprises. It can't be helped.

… but for now, all is well …

_…for now_.

* * *

**Elsewhere**

_My enemies believe they have destroyed me, but alas, I can never truly die. Eternal life is the punishment I was given – trapped forever in my own personal Hell. _

_I once had a body - but now there is nothing. And that is what I am. That is what I have become: a thinking, feeling 'nothing'._

_I have lost. Everything._

_…I hate losing… _

**The End**

* * *

**_Extra A/N: Well, this is it. The final E:tVH. Even though I said it at the top, I want to reiterate here – a big huge "thank you" to Le Chat Noir. Without her Beta services, I never would have gotten this far. And I'm not exaggerating. _**

For those interested, there's a sequel here: http // www. fanfiction. net /s / 2913531 / 1 / (minus the spaces).

Thanks to all my squeers and reviewers and readers for sticking with me through this really long 'fic. I appreciate it!

- Elektra


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